


Red Hair and Hand Me Downs - first year

by insertfandomjoke



Series: Red Hair and Hand Me Downs [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Gen, Red-Haired Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry Potter, based on that one art by sadfishkid on tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertfandomjoke/pseuds/insertfandomjoke
Summary: Harry James Potter still has dead parents, a scar, poor eyesight and a horrible aunt, uncle and cousin. He still lives in a cupboard under the stairs (until the letters start arriving, that is) and for the most part, he's the same hero everyone's grown to love.However, instead of James' hair and Lily's eyes, a burst of red sits on his head and underneath his cracked glasses lie a warm, deep hazel.And so, everything changes.(Or in which Draco mistakes Harry for a Weasley in Madam Malkin's, resulting in Harry revealing who he is and an unlikely friendly being born.)





	1. No Longer Ordinary

Harry Potter, for most of his life, believed there was nothing special about him. He knew that his parents were killed in a car crash (or at least, that’s what he was told) and that same car crash gave him the lightning-bolt scar etched onto his forehead. He knew from when his aunt and uncle had had a bit too much wine that he looked almost exactly like his mother, with his freckles and wavy, bright red hair that covered the mark on his head. Aunt Petunia used to tell him when he was younger that his hair was the reason he was so “abnormal” (at least, until Dudley had brought home a friend with red hair too). He also knew that he had that “nasty Potter’s eyes”, to quote her directly. The only other thing he knew about his parents were their names; Lily and James Potter.

Harry James Potter had red hair, brown eyes, a lightning bolt scar, dead parents and slept in the cupboard under the stairs, and, for the longest time, he believed that that was all there was to him. But then the letters started arriving and he was given Dudley’s small second bedroom that held all his old toys (a lot were broken). Then he was whisked off to the hut on the rock where he met Hagrid and learnt that his parents weren’t good-for-nothings, as the Dursleys often had him believe, but rather  _ Lily and James Potter _ , who were brilliant in everything. He learnt that they weren’t killed in a car crash but rather by a dark wizard (who he later learnt was called Voldemort) and he, Harry James Potter, a boy who was nothing special, was one of the most famous wizards for defeating him. His scar was from where Voldemort’s curse had hit him and rebounded and suddenly, Harry James Potter was no longer ordinary.

Hagrid told him about Hogwarts, the wizarding school who had been sending all the letters and gave Harry one to read at last. Then he gladly went with Hagrid as he was whisked off to the Leaky Cauldron, where everyone wanted to shake his hand, and off they went to Diagon Alley. Harry learnt that he had a small fortune to his name and watched as Hagrid removed a suspiciously small package from a heavily guarded vault.

They then continued going around and buying Harry’s school supplies and Hagrid patiently answered Harry’s many, many questions about the wizarding world and the likes. Harry, never having been allowed to ask questions before, took full advantage of this.

Hagrid had just left to calm his stomach from the Gringotts cart ride with something from the Leaky Cauldron, leaving the boy to walk into Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions on his own. As he entered, a friendly-looking witch hurried over, and Harry figured that this must be Madam Malkin herself.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she asked, just as Harry opened his mouth to speak. Glad that he didn’t have to say anything, as he really didn’t know what on earth he was supposed to be getting, Harry just nodded. “Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

She led him over to the back of the shop and Harry spotted a pale boy with slicked blond hair who was currently being fitted by another witch. Harry stood on the stool Madam Malkin gestured to, which happened to be right next to the boy, and then she started her work.

The boy barely gave Harry a glance. “Hullo,” he said, “Hogwarts too?”

Harry replied with a short “Yes,” too busy looking at the boy with interest. Harry, having only attended school with his cousin Dudley who bullied anyone that so much as looked twice at Harry, had never really had a person his own age to chat with.

As the strange boy continued to talk, Harry noticed that he had a drawling voice, almost as if though everything bored him. The boy explained that his father was buying books and his mother was looking at wands. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry barely stopped a frown from spreading over his face when he was reminded of Dudley. It was such a shame, really, because the boy, although rather stuck-up and demanding, was the only source of semi-decent conversation Harry’s had in years, aside from Hagrid and that snake from the zoo.

“Have  _ you _ got your own broom?” the boy asked, attempting to bring Harry back into the conversation after noticing he was rather silent.

“No,” was Harry’s short reply.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry said again, curious as to what Quidditch could be. He figured it was a wizarding sport, or perhaps a game.

“ _ I _ do – Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Funny though, I thought even though the Weasleys were poor, they’d at least have the decency to let their kids play Quidditch. Wait till my father hears about this!” The boy said all of this in a rather disgusted tone, finally looking at Harry. His expression was one of disdain as he took in Harry’s flaming red hair and Dudley’s huge old clothes.

“I’m sorry,” Harry began, truly and utterly confused now, “but what do you mean Weasley?”

“Don’t play dumb. Red hair and hand-me-down clothes? My father told me all the Weasleys have that unnatural hair colour, freckles and more children than they can afford.” The boy said nastily, shooting a pointed look at Harry’s clothes. “The whole lot of them – blood traitors! My father told me so. And judging by your  _ muggle _ clothing, it seems they also have appalling bad taste.”

It was then that Harry figured that the Weasleys must be a wizarding family of some sort. A wizarding family with the same sort of appearance as Harry, if what the boy said was to be relied on.

“I think you have me confused with someone else,” Harry said slowly. “My parents are dead.” The boy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. “Besides, they weren’t Weasleys, that’s the one thing I’m sure about.”

“Oh, sorry,” the boy looked ever so slightly embarrassed, before something registered in his mind. “What do you mean, that’s the one thing you’re sure about? Surely your new guardians would have told you about them.”

“Ah, well,” Harry’s cheeks heated up as he mumbled “my aunt and uncle didn’t like the fact that my parents had magic very much. Or at all, really.”

A scowl settled across the boy’s face. “ _ Muggles _ , are they? That explains a lot. Who were your parents, anyway?”

“Uh, yeah,” Harry replied, not liking the way the other spat the word muggles, however, he assumed, from what Harry’s told him, he supposed the boy had a reason for saying it like that. “My parents were Lily and James Potter.”

At this, the boy’s eyes widened. “ _ You’re joking _ . You  _ can’t _ be Harry Potter! Prove it!” he demanded, in a disbelieving tone.

“How do I prove it?” Harry questioned, absolutely bewildered. How did people prove these things? “I don’t have my birth certificate on me.”

“Birth certificate?” Draco frowned. “What does that matter? If you’re  _ really  _ Harry Potter, then all you have to do is show me your scar!”

“Scar? Oh you mean –“ Harry, still not used to this treatment, brushed his hair out of the way so the boy could see his lightning bolt scar. Madam Malkin had stopped to check this for herself. His robes would take forever, at this rate.

“You are!” The boy cried happily. “I’m Malfoy. Draco, Malfoy.” Draco seemed to expect Harry to be impressed by this, as he looked rather confident. He held out his hand but Harry just stared at it. Draco, who didn’t seem one for patience, let out a huff of annoyance before grabbing Harry’s and shaking it. “Why didn’t you tell me straight away that you were  _ Harry Potter _ ?”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance, now, did you?” Harry snapped, before flushing and mumbling out an apology.

Draco, at least, had the decency to look sheepish. Harry watched as the boy shuffling about uncomfortably on his stool, opening and closing his mouth several times before finally saying, “I- I didn’t mean- well, you see, Father’s always told me that purebloods were to only associate with other purebloods and well, the Weasley family doesn’t exactly do that, and –“ he broke himself off. Harry got the impression that he was trying to apologise (or something along those lines) and that Draco wasn’t exactly used to doing so. “You’re halfblood, I forgot, I shouldn’t have said that. Besides, you’re  _ Harry Potter _ so I guess there isn’t anything wrong with halfbloods. It’s the muggleborns you have to be cautious around.” This was all said very fast and Harry had a hard time keeping up.

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds. “Forgot to ask earlier, do you know what house you’ll be in?” Draco asked, eager to change the subject.

“No,” Harry replied, once again feeling down-heartened by his lack of knowledge. He wasn’t even sure what the boy meant by house, let alone which one he was supposed to be in.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” Harry must have looked as confused as he felt, because Draco immediately backtracked, remembering what Harry had let slip about his limited information earlier. “Just so you know, there are four houses in Hogwarts. There’s Slytherin, the cunning ones, Gryffindor, the ones who brainlessly rush into things, Ravenclaw, the smart ones, and Hufflepuff, the fool-hardy idiots who don’t know the difference between a quill and a broomstick.”

“I bet I’m Hufflepuff,” Harry muttered glumly.

“Nonsense, you defeated the Dark Lord when you were a baby! You’re a Potter, too. That ought to count for something, I just know you’ll be Slytherin.” Harry still didn’t feel convinced. “Oh, cheer up. By the way, I know you said you’re relatives don’t like the wizarding world too much, but what is  _ with _ those clothes? You’re most likely the sole heir of the Potter fortune, one of the oldest wizarding families alive, alongside Malfoy, of course.  _ Surely _ you can afford some decent clothing.”

“I- well, they, uh… My aunt and uncle don’t really want to waste their money on me, so they give me my cousin Dudley’s old clothes. I don’t exactly want them, but it’s all I have. And besides, I don’t want to spend all the money my parents left me on  _ clothes  _ when the booklist is so long.” Harry was staring intently at his lap and fidgeting with his fingers as he said this.

Draco processed this information and realised that Harry was implying that he paid for all his school books and materials with his own money, which was rather odd since Draco had never know a parent (or guardian) to force their child to pay for  _ school supplies _ before.

“Are they poor?” He asked tentatively. Or, as tentatively as Draco Malfoy could get, in any case.

Harry scoffed. “Nope. If you saw how much presents Dudley gets for his birthday and Christmas, you’d think the Dursleys’ were the richest family alive.”

“Then why..?” Draco prompted when it didn’t seem Harry was going to say anymore.

“They prefer pretending I don’t exist. What I said about them not liking my parents’ magic goes the same for me. They’re not fond of any kind of magic,” Harry said in a rush. Draco swore that he heard an “or me” at the end there.

Although rather furious with the muggles and having quite a lot he wanted to say, Draco let the subject drop.

“I say, look at that man!” Draco exclaimed suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there and grinned at Harry before tapping his wrist, indicating that he had been standing there for a while now. To Harry’s great delight, he saw Hagrid had two large ice-cream cones, topped with brightly coloured sprinkles.

“That’s Hagrid. Since the Dursleys would never come, he’s helping me buy my Hogwarts stuff. He works as the gamekeeper at Hogwarts.” Harry was rather pleased to know something Draco didn’t.

Draco once again had a disdained look on his face, but this time, he refrained himself from saying anything nasty. “I’ve heard of him.” From the short reply, Harry felt that the things Draco had heard weren’t exactly pleasant.

“Hagrid’s brilliant! Before you, he was the only one who told me anything about Hogwarts and what to expect.” Noticing that Draco still had that expression, Harry continued on, determined to convince Malfoy that Hagrid was nothing but good. “You should’ve seen what he did to Dudley when he caught him eating my cake Hagrid brought me! It was the first time anyone’s ever stood up for me.”

At this, Draco’s frown finally let up. He shot a curious glance at Harry and took in his small frame, big clothes and broken glasses. “Well, there’s no other choice,” he spoke, capturing Harry’s attention. “Let’s be friends.” Draco was determined to protect Harry Potter from that point onwards, and if it meant going against his father’s beliefs, then so be it. (Of course, he wasn’t going to tell  _ Lucius Malfoy _ about Harry, because Draco’s a – or will be a –  _ Slytherin _ , thank you very much, and unlike Gryffindors, he was going to be smart about this. When he made the decision to protect Harry that meant from his father, too.)

Harry nodded and was positively beaming by then, but before he could say anything else, Madam Malkin piped up, “That’s you done, my dear.” Harry gave one last smile at his first friend ever before hopping down from the footstool and leaving the shop.

“See you at Hogwarts!” Harry called over his shoulder, just in time to see Draco grin too.

“What’s got yeh so happy?” Hagrid asked, smiling at Harry’s sudden happiness.

“Nothing,” Harry hummed, before gladly accepting the ice-cream he was handed. “Just excited for Hogwarts.” They continued on with the list of supplies, stopping to buy parchment and quills. Harry was once again fascinated by all of the magical inventions (he had spotted a bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote) and was going over the conversation with Draco in his mind when he remembered something. “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”

“Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know – not knowin’ about Quidditch!” Hagrid had seemed truly offended by this, much like Draco had. Harry said as much.

“The boy I was talking to in Madam Malkin’s said pretty much the same thing,” Harry began. He told Hagrid all about the pale boy called Draco who had a drawling voice, grey-blue eyes, and blond hair, smooth and slicked back. He also told him about being mistaken for a Weasley and making his first friend (conveniently leaving out a lot of the negative things Draco had said, because the boy did apologise… kind of, and besides, Harry really wanted Hagrid to like him too.)

“Knew yeh’d be makin’ friends in no time! It’s true though, yeh do look like a Weasley! Not tha’ there’s anything wrong with ‘em. In fact, I knew Molly and Arthur from Hogwarts. O’ course, I know their twin sons, Fred and George, well enough from all the times they’ve tried ter sneak into the Forbidden Forest. Troublesome pair, tha’ lot.” Hagrid chuckled. Harry quite liked the sound of the twins, they seemed like a rather amusing duo.

“So what  _ is _ Quidditch?”

“It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like – like football in the Muggle world.” Hagrid explained, then went on to say the equipment used in it. (Harry, personally, was incredibly interested in the flying broomsticks, but Hagrid told him he wasn’t allowed one until next year.)

“And what are the school houses? What are they for?” Harry asked. He knew from Draco’s explanation that there were four, but that didn’t explain what they did or why they were so important.

“There’s four school houses. You have Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. They’re like, ah, they’re the group o’ people you share a dorm and eat with. Yer parents were both Gryffindor, so I figure yer’ll find yer way in there too.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions, as they soon arrived in a shop called Flourish and Blotts. From that point onwards, the few remaining daylight hours were spent going from shop to shop, buying books, cauldrons and supplies for Harry’s future Potions lessons.

Once they were done there, Hagrid checked the school list again. “Just yer wand left – oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.”

Harry blushed and went to tell Hagrid that he needn’t get him anything, but Hagrid cut him off.

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at – an’ I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer post an’ everythin’.”

About half an hour later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium; Harry carrying a large birdcage with a beautiful snowy owl that was currently fast asleep in it. “Thanks, Hagrid!” Harry said for the umpteenth time, staring at the bird in wonder. Something for him! This was the most Harry’s ever received in his life, and in one day too!

“Don’ mention it,” Hagrid said gruffly, hiding a pleased smile. “Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now – only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.”

–

Hagrid and Harry were eating hamburgers at the nearest muggle train station, waiting for the train that would take Harry back to the Dursleys until the start of term. Ollivanders had been a dusty, run-down-looking shop, filled with wands in shoe boxes lining the walls in stacks that reminded Harry of Flourish and Blotts. It was rather dim in there. Ollivander himself had been a peculiar fellow that made Harry feel a bit uncomfortable at times, though Harry didn’t mind too much as he had learnt more about his parents.

He was once again told that he looked almost exactly like Lily with James’ eyes, but he was far more interested in learning what kind of wands his parents had had.

After the introductions were over, he started to wave wands about. He felt rather stupid when nothing happened and stupider still as the rejected wands piled up. (Imagine his surprise when he found out that the wand that had “chosen him”, as Mr Ollivander would have put it, shared the same core with Voldemort’s wand.)

“You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,” Hagrid spoke up, breaking Harry’s train of thought.

“Everyone thinks I’m special,” Harry said at last. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Draco, Mr Ollivander… but I don’t even know anything about magic! How can they expect great things when I can’t even remember what I’m famous for? I don’t know what happened when Vol- sorry – I mean, the night my parents died.”

“Don’ you worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, ‘smatter of fact.” Hagrid reassured him, leaning across the table to do so.

The train arrived then, and Harry was sad to see Hagrid go, but, as Hagrid reminded him, they would see each other again soon enough. He was handed his ticket for Hogwarts and told that if there were any problems with the Dursleys, all he had to do was send Hagrid a letter using his owl, which he had yet to name.

Harry left London with a smile on his face and his mood only brightened when the Dursleys ignored him almost completely instead of dishing out chores, like they usually would. In fact, they seemed rather afraid of Harry; Dudley ran out of any room Harry was in and Vernon refrained from yelling constantly. And if telling the Dursleys that he wasn’t allowed to do magic outside of school slipped Harry’s mind, well, what was the harm in that?


	2. Weasleys, Malfoys and Grangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets on the train to Hogwarts and introduces Draco to Ron, only to find out they know each other already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates!

Despite Harry’s previous happiness about being left alone, it started to get depressing. While he was used to being ignored by the Dursleys, they didn’t avoid him completely like this. Before, Aunt Petunia always jostled him from his sleep by rapping furiously against his cupboard’s door each morning to get Harry up to make breakfast for everyone. Harry, of course, only got the tiny bit that was left over, and once he had eaten as much as he could, he was given a long list of chores to do.

You see, because he looked so much like Lily, Aunt Petunia could barely stand to look at him, and therefore Harry was given as many chores as the Dursleys could think of that would keep Harry out of their sight. Uncle Vernon always had something to say about Harry’s outrageous hair, glasses or generally messy appearance and Dudley never passed up an opportunity to threaten Harry or play his favourite game, “Harry Hunting.”

Now, Harry woke up to a cold, measly breakfast waiting outside his door each morning. Even when he finally ventured outside of his room, the Dursleys wouldn’t look at him nor speak to him, not even to sneer or yell. He truly started to feel as if though he didn’t exist when Dudley’s gang passed by him without even a backwards glance one day after he finally decided that anywhere was better than the Dursleys’ home. He was wrong, apparently.

After that incident, Harry mostly kept to his room, reading through his school books or chatting with his owl, Hedwig. The only things Harry had to keep him sane was the constancy of cleaning up the dead mice Hedwig kept bringing him as gifts, counting down the days until September and, as sad as it sounded, imagining his new life at Hogwarts. He hoped he and Draco were in the same class – or, well, house.

On the last day of August, however, Harry had decided that he had put it off long enough and that it was time to talk to his aunt and uncle about getting to King’s Cross Station the next day. He really hoped they wouldn’t say no, as he had most likely left it too late to owl Hagrid if there  _ were _ any problems. And so, Harry went down to the living room, where the Dursleys were lounging around watching the TV. He cleared his throat and winced at how loud it seemed in the room. The Dursleys swung around to look at him. As soon as he caught sight of Harry standing in the doorway, Dudley squeaked and ran off.

“Er – Uncle Vernon?” Harry licked his lips; his voice was croaky from the lack of use.  _ Grunt _ . Harry assumed this meant he was listening, so he continued. “Er – I need to be at King’s Cross tomorrow to go to Hogwarts.”  _ Grunt _ . “Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?”  _ Pause. Grunt _ . Harry hoped this meant yes. “Thank you.”

He tried to make a quick getaway to prevent the chance of Uncle Vernon changing his mind, but the man spoke before he could dart back around the corner.

“Funny way to get to a wizards’ school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?”

Harry didn’t say anything. Years of enduring the Dursleys made Harry (rightfully) fear angering Uncle Vernon.

“Where is this school, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted quietly, realising that he really  _ didn’t _ know. He pulled out the ticket Hagrid had given him and read over it, despite knowing the words off by heart from rereading it again and again whenever he couldn’t believe that this wasn’t some crazy, long dream he was having.

“It just says to take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o’clock,” Harry stated.

His aunt and uncle stared, looking at him properly for the first time in a month.

“Platform what?”

“Nine and three-quarters.” Harry couldn’t quite keep the uncertainty from his voice.

“Don’t talk rubbish,” spat Uncle Vernon, not caring how Harry flinched, “there is no platform nine and three-quarters.”

“It’s on my ticket,” Harry protested quietly.

“Barking,” Uncle Vernon gave a nasty sort of laugh. “Howling mad, the lot of them. You’ll see. You just wait. All right. We’re going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn’t bother.”

“Why are you going to London?” Harry asked, desperate to steer things back to (or as close as he could get by Vernon’s standards) a friendly conversation.

It didn’t work. “Taking Dudley to hospital,” Uncle Vernon growled dangerously. “Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings.”

Harry bolted before he could make the situation worse.

–

“Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine – platform ten.” Uncle Vernon spoke, grinning nastily. “Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don’t seem to have built it yet, have they?”

Harry felt his chest clench upon discovering that he was quite right. There were two big plastic numbers displaying “9” and “10” on their respective platforms, but not a “9 and ¾” anywhere to be found.

“Have a good term,” Uncle Vernon said all too happily, leaving without another word. Harry, finally breaking out of his shock, turned to tell Uncle Vernon to wait for him, because that couldn’t be right, surely, but the man was already gone. This had to be the first time in his life that Harry had ever wished for the Dursleys’ company.

Harry was trying not to panic. His train left in ten minutes, he didn’t know how to get onto the platform, let alone find it and he had just been left in the middle of an unfamiliar station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocketful of wizard money he had no idea how to use and a large, attention-catching owl. To make matters worse, the guard he asked didn’t seem to know anything about Hogwarts or a train that left at 11 o’clock and had thought Harry was wasting his time on purpose.

Just as Harry was considering getting his wand out and tapping the bricks between the platforms like Hagrid had done to get into Diagon Alley, a group of people passed behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

“-packed with Muggles, of course –“

Harry swung around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair that rivalled Harry’s. Each of them were pushing large trunks that resembled his own in front of them – and one of them had an  _ owl _ . Gathering up his courage, Harry pushed his trolley after them. When they stopped, he did too, just close enough to hear what they were saying.

He listened to their conversation as Ginny, the smallest and only other girl besides the woman who had spoken first, begged to go to Hogwarts. From the girl and what was presumably her mother’s interactions, Harry learnt with excitement that they were indeed talking about Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He also felt as if though he was forgetting something, something that had to do with this big group of people that had red hair like his.

“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first,” the woman said, ushering a boy – Percy – forwards. He looked like the oldest of the five children and strode forwards confidently, heading straight to the divide between platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, desperately willing himself not to blink in case he missed it – but just as Percy had reached the brick wall, a large crowd of tourists rushed in front of him, obscuring his view. When they were all gone, the boy had disappeared too.

“Fred, you next,” the plump woman said. With a jolt, Harry realised that the two identical boys in front of him must be Fred and George Weasley, the twins Hagrid had told him about. There was that feeling again. Surely he had forgotten something, something about the  _ Weasleys _ …

“I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy the woman had gestured to, breaking Harry’s train of thought. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you  _ tell _ I’m George?” Harry felt a pang of sympathy for George, although, he could hardly blame the mother, as they looked exactly the same. The fact that they were wearing matching outfits certainly didn’t help.

“Sorry, George, dear.”

“Only joking, I am Fred,” said the same boy, and off he went. Harry decided he really liked the twins (the red hair had nothing to do with it, he swore). Fred’s twin, George, called after him, telling him to hurry up, and he must have done, because when Harry turned back to look at him after examining George, Fred had gone – but how had he done it?

Now the second twin was walking briskly towards the ticket barrier. He was almost there, and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t. Harry took a deep breath. There was no other choice. He walked over to where the woman was standing with the final brother and girl – Ginny.

“Excuse me,” Harry said nervously, capturing their attention.

The woman turned around, but she was trying to console Ginny so she didn’t really pay Harry any mind. “Ron, there you are! What are you waiting for, just walk right through!”

Harry figured that she must be talking to him, which only confused him further. “Uh, I think you’re mistaken. I’m not Ron.”

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing Harry to jump a little.

“Mum, honestly. First you can’t tell Fred and George apart, then you can’t tell me apart from a stranger!”

Harry turned to see a young boy with freckles and bright red hair, much like Harry’s. That was where the similarities ended. Ron was tall, or, at least, taller than Harry was. He was also thin, but not as thin as Harry’s half-starved self, and he had a long nose (with a smudge of dirt on it, but Harry felt it would be rude to point it out). Another difference was Ron’s decidedly not hazel eyes.

The boy gave Harry a large smile, which Harry returned, hoping that this boy would become his second ever friend.

The woman laughed. “Oh my, you’ll have to forgive me, dear. With so many children, you begin to lose track of them all! Now, child, what did you want?”

“Oh, well, you see, it’s my first time at Hogwarts but the thing is, my ticket says nine and three-quarters but I don’t know where that is.” Harry, not for the first time, felt he was rather uneducated about wizard-ongoings.

“Not to worry. It’s Ron’s first time too, so he’ll show you! All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between the two platforms. Go on then, Ron!” She waved the other boy forward and he took off in a slow run.

“I’ll wait for you!” Ron called over his shoulder, just as he was at the barrier. The next moment, he was simply gone.

“Now, off you go! I’m sure Ron will help you with anything else you need,” the woman said kindly.

“Er – okay,” mumbled Harry, feeling his heart jump when he pushed his trolley around to stare down the barrier. It looked extremely solid. Very crash-able, if you asked Harry. Then again, the other boys had made it just fine, surely he’d be alright.

He started to walk towards it, feeling his palms already start to sweat. People jostled him on their ways to the separate, most certainly real, platforms nine and ten. Harry walked quicker, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as possible. He was going to smash right into the barrier, and then he’d be laughed at and oh god, what if the guard thought he was making more trouble? He broke into a heavy run, regretting it when the barrier came nearer and nearer and there was no way he’d be able to stop now, his trolley was out of control. He made a mental note to never trust an adult again. He berated himself for being so stupid when he came to about a foot away. If living with the Dursleys had taught him one thing, he should never trust adults. He squeezed his eyes shut as he readied for the crash… which never came.

He peaked out from one eye and saw he was still running. He then opened both eyes and saw a scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform packed full of people. There was a sign informing him that this was  _ Hogwarts Express, 11 o’clock _ and an archway behind him where the ticket box  _ should’ve _ been, with the words  _ Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _ on it. Underneath stood Ron. He had done it.

–

Harry sat in the empty compartment by himself, his trunk and owl safely tucked away in the corner. Ron had left to chase Scabbers – his pet rat – through the crowd, promising he’d find Harry on the train. Getting his trunk onto the train had been hard, but luckily one of the Weasley twins saw him struggling and called over the other to help. For the second time in his life, he found himself telling people that _yes, he was_ _Harry Potter_. He had squirmed a bit when it came to this, still not used to the attention, but luckily, the twins were called away by their mother.

He had watched them with their family for a bit, laughing at the twins poking fun at Percy for proclaiming he was a Prefect. They then slipped onto the train along with the other two brothers, just before the train started moving. Harry was officially on his way to Hogwarts. He watched as the red-headed girl he saw before run after the train along the platform as much as she could, crying and waving. In that moment, Harry felt a pang in his chest. He had always wished he had a sister, or any kind of sibling, really.

Then, the door of his compartment slid open and the youngest red-headed boy came in. Harry wondered where his trunk was.

“Anyone sitting there?” Ron asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

“Hey, Ron.” The twins were back and seemed surprised that Ron was there. “Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”

“Right,” mumbled Ron. The twins grinned at this. Harry felt he was missing out on some kind of joke (which wasn’t surprising considering the three were family and Harry was still rather clueless about a lot of things).

“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. You’ll be hearing a lot about us. See you later, then.”

“Bye,” said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. A moment of silence passed.

“Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded, resigned to having this conversation with everyone he met.

“Oh – well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,” Ron mumbled. “I didn’t think that you’d have – you know – red hair, like me.” Harry smiled, recalling Draco mistaking him for a Weasley. That’s when he finally remembered the thing that had been nagging at his brain.

_ “My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford,”  _ was what Draco had said, among other nasty things. But perhaps he was wrong about them. He had been wrong about Hagrid. Besides, Harry didn’t even know what “blood traitor” meant. It couldn’t be that bad if that’s what the twins who helped him and this boy in front of him were. Their mother was nice, too. Draco was mistaken, surely.

Shaking his head, Harry discarded that thought and focussed on Ron. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Harry asked.

“Have you really got – you know…” He gestured up at Harry’s forehead.

Harry frowned for a moment, before understanding. He pulled back his messy hair to reveal the jagged scar. He shifted uncomfortably under Ron’s stare.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who -?” he trailed off again.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed. He wondered if Ron had ever finished a complete sentence. “But I can’t remember it.”

“Nothing?” Ron asked, shifting forward in his seat. Harry debated if this counted as a full sentence.

“Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.”

When Ron didn’t say anything else, Harry took the chance to ask the boy questions of his own. After all, he only found out he was a wizard a little more than two months ago. They discussed families briefly, Ron saying that his family were all wizards. Harry figured that the Weasleys must be one of the old wizarding families Draco had mentioned, but didn’t dare ask what pureblood and halfblood and muggleborn meant. He wanted to make a good impression, and revealing his cluelessness was not the way to go.

“I heard you went to live with Muggles,” Ron said suddenly. “What are they like?”

“Oh-“ Harry began, before being cut off by a familiar, drawling voice.

“Horrible,” Draco stated, before plonking himself down beside Harry. The boys must have been too involved in their conversation as neither heard the compartment door slide open. They both jumped.

“And you are?” Ron asked pointedly, glowering at their intruder.

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco answered, glaring back.

“Of course you are,” Ron scoffed. Harry looked back and forth desperately between the two. He couldn’t lose his first two friends. “I bet you say that about all Muggles.”

Before Draco could say anything and make the situation worse, Harry jumped in.

“Ron, the Muggles I live with really are horrible, but not all Muggles! It’s just my aunt, uncle and cousin. I think. I don’t really know many other Muggles. Wish I had three brothers, though.”

“Five,” Ron said gloomily. He explained how he was the sixth out of all his siblings to go to Hogwarts, hence never getting anything new. He then pulled out the fat, grey rat that he had been chasing on the platform.

Draco shrieked. “Put that thing back!” He scooted along the seat to press against the wall, as far away from the offending animal as he could get without leaving the compartment.

Harry hid his smile whereas Ron had no qualms about laughing, pretending to let it go just to watch Draco yell again before he set the rat down on his lap.

“Shut up!” Draco scowled. “That thing’s dreadful! Why don’t you get rid of that old rat, anyway?”

“I would, except it’s been in my family for ages. His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless; he hardly ever wakes up! Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn’t aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

Draco shot a pointed look at Harry, which he ignored. Ron only stared at the floor, his ears a bright pink.

Harry rushed to say that he had never gotten much either. He told Ron about never having any money at all in his life until Hagrid took him to Diagon Alley. He even mentioned that all his Muggle clothing were from Dudley and not getting proper birthday presents.

Ron was slightly cheered by this.

Draco piped up after Harry had finished, saying, “I told you they were horrible people!”

There didn’t seem anything else to say, so they settled into an awkward silence. Harry hated silence as it always felt like people were mad at him whenever they didn’t speak.  _ Probably the Dursleys’ influence again, _ he figured.

Luckily, an elderly witch knocked then. “Anything off the trolley dears?” She asked, and the trio caught sight of the trolley she was pushing. Their eyes lit up when they discovered it was loaded with sweets.

–

A compartment of sweets and lighter pockets later, Ron, Harry and Draco were happily chatting away.

Wracking his brain, Harry finally gathered up enough courage to say something. “So, er, Ron, do you like Quidditch?”

Both Ron and Draco sat up excitedly.

“Yes, I bloody well love Quidditch!” Ron exclaimed.

The boys seemed to forget all about their previous animosity and started discussing the latest broomstick – something called a Nimbus 2000 – as well as the finer points of the game. They argued good-naturedly over teams briefly, before realising that Harry didn’t know anything about Quidditch. They apologised, but Harry just shook his head and smile. He was happy to see his two new friends getting along.

“So, to recap, the Quaffle is passed among Chasers and is worth 10 points. The Bludgers go for players randomly and are hit away by Beaters. The Snitch-“

“- is worth 150 points and the Seeker of each team try to find and catch it. It ends the game, but the Snitch is very small and very fast, making it hard to catch,” Harry finished, cutting off Ron. Draco seemed to be proud with Harry’s progress as he beamed at the boy.

Just then, there was a hesitant knock on their door. A round-faced, tearful-looking boy stood there, trembling.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?” When the trio shook their heads, the boy wailed, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”

“He’ll turn up,” Harry offered. The boy nodded but didn’t look very hopeful. “If you see him…” He left.

“Poor kid,” Draco muttered, not very sympathetically. “Though, if I had a toad, I’d probably lose it as fast as possible.”

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed, shocked.

Ron jumped in. “He has a point, you know. I mean, sure, Scabbers sucks as a pet, but imagine having a  _ toad _ . Which reminds me, Fred and George gave me this spell to turn him yellow. Might as well try it out.”

Draco and Harry shifted forward eagerly. “Go on then,” Draco prompted.

Ron cleared his throat and raised his wand. Just then, the compartment door slid open yet again. The boy was back looking even more distraught. Harry felt a pang of guilt as he recalled their conversation mere seconds ago. Harry then caught sight of a girl next to the boy.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. Her tone reminded Harry of his old primary teacher who nobody liked because of how bossy she always was. Harry noted that the girl had lots of wild brown hair and rather large front teeth. She was also already in her new Hogwarts robes.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” Ron snapped, annoyed, but the girl wasn’t listening, or perhaps she just didn’t care.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it then,” she demanded, flopping down onto a vacant chair.

“Er- all right.” Ron cleared his throat and raised his wand again. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!” He exclaimed, jabbing his wand in the direction of his rat. Nothing happened.

“That’s not the incantation,” Draco muttered the same time as the girl asked, “Are you sure that’s a real spell?”

They all looked to Draco in shock. “How would  _ you _ know?” the girl asked, rather snobbishly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, for one thing, nothing happened. And besides, the colour charm is  _ colovaria _ .” He pointed his wand at Ron’s rat as he said this, and Scabbers turned a bright yellow. Harry grimaced. It was even uglier than before.

“That’s an advanced spell,” she whispered, breaking the shocked silence, her voice akin to something like awe. “It was mentioned very briefly in ‘ _ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1’ _ , but it said to not bother trying to learn it, as it’s a Fifth-Year spell.”

Draco’s chest swelled with pride. “Well, I  _ am _ a Malfoy. Not to mention a Slytherin, as well.”

Harry didn’t miss how the girl’s face flashed with slight distrust. However, whatever problem she had about Slytherins seemed to be surpassed by her desire to know more. “How do you know which house you’re going to be in?” She shifted forward eagerly in her seat. Harry realised Neville was still standing there, looking awkward.

He was about to offer him a seat when Draco replied. “Well, as I told Potter,” he pointed at Harry, and the boy in question watched as both the girl and Neville’s head swivelled towards him, “nobody knows which house they’ll be in before the actual Sorting, but my entire family have been in Slytherin.”

“Oh! Do you come from an all-wizarding family? Those are rare now-a-days.” Without giving Draco a chance to reply, the girl continued. “You must know a lot of magic already! Nobody in my family is magical at all, and it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter.” Harry caught Draco’s scowl upon learning that she came from a muggle family and elbowed him. “I was so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, or so I’ve heard. I’ve learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough. Oh, but maybe it won’t be considering you already know a Fifth-Year spell! I didn’t know we could learn those already, but of course we could, I should have known, oh,” she paused her rambling to take a breath. She didn’t seem to have noticed the exchange between the two boys moments ago. “I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, and you,” Hermione looked at Harry, “are you really Harry Potter?”

Harry nodded his head weakly.

“I know all about you, of course – I’ve got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in  _ Modern Magical History _ and  _ The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _ and  _ Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century _ .”

“Am I?” asked Harry, feeling a bit sick. He wondered if they were supposed to have read through all their books already. He had tried, but they were simply too big, and to memorise them in just two  _ months _ …

“Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,” Hermione said. This just made Harry feel worse. “Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

She stood up and left, leaving Neville to trail behind her.

“Did we really have to read through all our textbooks?” Harry asked faintly. What if his lack of knowledge got him kicked out? He could just imagine everyone laughing him out of Hogwarts when he tried to do the smallest bit of magic. Maybe they had made a mistake? Harry Potter wasn’t  _ that _ odd a name, was it?

“Cheer up, Potter. Of course not,” Draco scoffed. Harry noted that Ron had also relaxed when the blond boy told them this.

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered. “I hope I’m not in the same house as her.”

Draco and Harry agreed, then the three boys got up and finally got changed into their school robes.

_ Not long now, _ Harry found himself thinking.


	3. The Surprise Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry enters Hogwarts and gets Sorted. The Great Hall are in for a surprise.

Indeed, it wasn’t long before the train pulled up to a small platform surrounded by a forest. For the last five minutes or so, he, Ron and Draco had been staring out the window trying to get a glimpse of the castle, but either the trees were too tall or the sky was too dark, for they hadn’t seen a thing.

Harry and Ron followed Draco out of the train and onto the platform. Just as they were about to ask someone where they had to go, a great booming voice called out over the crowd, “Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here! All right there, Harry?”

Harry looked up into Hagrid’s beaming face and smiled. Ron leant over and whispered in his ear, “Harry, who’s this?” Harry didn’t get a chance to reply.

“It seems yeh’ve made another friend!” Hagrid exclaimed upon seeing Ron. “Would yer look at tha’, you have the same hair!” Harry had a feeling he’d be getting that a lot. “C’mon, follow me – any more firs’-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’-years follow me!” Hagrid continued to round up the tiny first-years and then lead them down a steep, narrow path. Harry wondered why none of the other, older students were taking this way.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “Jus’ round this bend here.”

When they did go round, there was a collective “ _ Oh!” _ from the students. The path had led them to the side of a giant lake. More interestingly, on the other side of the lake, there was a giant castle. Its huge windows sparkled and Harry noted that it had many turrets and towers. His heart raced in excitement. Even Draco, who Harry knew must be quite rich, looked on in awe.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called out suddenly, and Harry finally spotted a small fleet of boats bobbing in the water near the shore.

“Draco!” Two voices shouted suddenly, and the trio spun around to see two brutish boys coming towards them.

“Crabbe, Goyle,” Draco greeted coolly, nodding at each in turn. Harry thought that he didn’t seem too pleased with them.

“Where’d you go in such a rush?” One of them – Crabbe – asked.

When they said that, a pug-nosed girl with neat, dark-brown hair spun around to face them. “There you are, Malfoy! How dare you leave like that?” she exclaimed furiously.

“Calm down, Pansy. I just went to find Potter, of course,” Draco explained. Pansy’s eyes widened in shock. She looked behind Draco to where Harry and Ron were standing, then proceeded to size them up.

“Potter? That’s a weird name,” Crabbe noted. Everyone but Goyle glared at him. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Which one is –“ Pansy’s question was never finished as she caught sight of Harry’s small and embarrassed wave. “You don’t mean that _ you’re _ –“ she started in disbelief. She paused. Collecting herself, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Pansy, as you know. Pansy Parkinson.”

Harry shook it as Ron snorted, “Are all the other purebloods this stuck-up?”

Harry didn’t say anything, but he did agree. He smiled to himself as he remembered how Draco had introduced himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy narrowed her eyes at Ron. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Anyway,” she turned back to Harry, “did you know that Draco went on and on about you to me for weeks after meeting you in Diagon Alley? I believe your first conversation took place in Madam Malkin? He said that your name was Harry, but he never thought to inform me that you were  _ the _ Harry Potter! I can see what he meant by  _ shy, but not in the annoying way _ and oh, Draco, you were right, he really does have  _ the most hazel eyes to ever exist _ . In fact, I can almost see them sparkle golden in the light, just like you said they would.”

Draco covered Pansy’s mouth before she could say anything else. Harry got the feeling that Pansy had been purposefully trying to embarrass Draco as payback for ditching her and the other two boys.

“Hurry up, into the boats!”

They all whirled around to see Hagrid and the other first-years waiting impatiently, all of them already in their own boats. Harry, Ron, Draco and Pansy clambered into the only empty boat left, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to hop in with Neville and Hermione. Harry grimaced sympathetically.

“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid. “Right then – FORWARD!”

Harry clutched the side of his boat as they suddenly jolted forward, and before he knew it, they were gliding across the lake.

“Right,” Pansy said, drawing the attention back to her. “I already know Draco and Harry, now who are you?” she asked Ron.

“Ron Weasley,” he replied.

Pansy’s face was one of disgust as she opened her mouth to speak. Quickly, Draco cut in. “He’s all right, you know, for a Weasley.” He sent a meaningful nod towards Harry and Pansy followed with her eyes.

“ _ Oh. _ That’s right. Halfblood, forgot.” Pansy settled back down. Ron frowned at this.

“What have you got against halfbloods?” he challenged. Harry desperately wished that whenever he met someone knew, his friends didn’t have to try and pick a fight.

“Sorry, but what do you mean by halfblood and pureblood?” Harry asked. It didn’t seem to be the right thing to say, as Ron’s scowl grew.

“Yeah, go on, tell  _ Harry Potter, _ the most famous person you’ll ever set your eyes on, a  _ halfblood,  _ about it.”

Draco and Pansy shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Look, I’m sure Pansy didn’t mean anything about, and besides, it’s not like most purebloods have a choice in their views. Most of the time it’s their parents and –“

“ _ So are you saying you’re one of them too?” _ Ron seethed. He then placed a protective arm around Harry.

“No, no, of course not, it’s just –“

“Your father is?  _ I know _ .” Seeing Draco’s pleading face, Ron sighed. “Fine. You haven’t said anything too insulting so far. However, don’t expect me to be all chummy with  _ her. _ ” He jerked his head in the direction of Pansy.

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just my mother and father are always telling me horrible things about the Weasleys and –“ she cut herself off. “Never mind. I’m sure your family isn’t too bad. This has gone off to a bad start. Let’s talk about something else. I heard there’s a giant squid in this lake.”

As soon as she said this, they heard a great splash. It appeared that the boat with Neville, Hermione, Crabbe and Goyle had capsized. Harry had a good idea on what – or rather, who – was responsible for this. Hagrid called the boats to a stop and steered his as close as he could get to the upturned boat. He flipped it over and not a second later, a humongous tentacle burst through the water and dumped the sopping lot onto the boat. Hagrid took off his coat and gave it to them, before the boats started moving again.

All collectively coming to the wordless agreement that the argument was over, Pansy, Draco, Ron and Harry started talking about their excitement of what was to come. The purebloods described to Harry all they knew of Hogwarts, Ron pitching on secret passageways Fred and George had told him about, Pansy gossiping away about their future classmates and the ghosts, and Draco giving them information on the teachers and houses.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me, how are we sorted?” Harry asked.

“Fred and George told me we have to battle a troll,” Ron squeaked out in a small voice. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Harry felt himself go pale. He didn’t even know any magic yet! How was he supposed to battle a troll?! Draco and Pansy’s laughter broke into his panic-filled haze.

“They did, did they?” Draco snorted. “Well, I guess the magical creatures department shouldn’t be around any more, because apparently  _ first-years  _ are all now expected to fight them! Pansy, Pansy, can you  _ believe _ ?” The girl was laughing too hard to respond. Catching the other two’s confused expressions, Draco explained. “Don’t worry Weasley, Potter, you’re not expected to fight a troll. I’m pretty sure neither are seventh-years, for heaven’s sake! All you have to do is put on the Sorting Hat. It – it’s, to put it simply, a magical hat that can read your mind. It looks at your traits and decides which house you belong in.”

Harry and Ron breathed out in relief. In hindsight, it was rather stupid to believe that the school would put a bunch of eleven-year-olds in danger.

–

Hagrid had led them to a great oaken door. It had swung open to reveal a stern-looking witch in emerald-green robes. She thanked Hagrid and then led the bunch of small first-years inside, showing them the huge Entrance Hall. The stone walls were lined with flaming torches and the ceiling was so high Harry thought you must have been able to fit twenty Hagrids all standing on top of each other and they would still have room for more.

Currently, they were in an empty chamber coming off the Hall. On the way, Harry had heard the undecipherable chatter of what must have been the rest of the students.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall, in a rather terse, uncomforting voice. She then explained the whole house deal, which, of course, Harry, Draco, Pansy and Ron already knew. There were a few stern warnings about points, which Harry didn’t know, but overall, it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. (Except, maybe this speech was more formal and drawn out. And more frightening. Harry preferred it when his friends were explaining it.)

“I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly,” Professor McGonagall finished.

Harry looked around and saw that most of the first-years seemed to share the same thought he had had a few moments ago. There wasn’t a lot of talking. Everyone else looked too nervous to utter a word – excluding Hermione Granger. She was muttering quickly under her breath. Neville was beside her, doing his very best to listen and take notes. Harry figured the girl was revising spells. They both looked deathly pale.

Feeling bad, Harry broke away from his three friends to talk to them.

Hermione saw him first. “Hold still,” she ordered. She raised her wand, aiming right at Harry’s face. Before he had time to react, perhaps runaway, she said clearly, “ _ Oculus reparo.” _ In an instant, Harry noticed the difference. The cracks that had previously just been a part of his world disappeared from his glasses. The broken bit that rested on his nose and was taped together was as good as new.

“Thanks!” Harry blinked and admired his glasses, astonished.

“No problem. Besides, I needed to practice. Who knows what kind of test we’ll be expected to take in there? I have to be prepared.”

“About that,” Harry said, “you don’t need to know any magic yet.” At this, Neville relaxed, although Hermione still looked unsure.

“Are you certain?” she asked.

“Yes, well, Draco and Pansy told me. You only have to put on the Sorting Hat. It can, er, read your mind, I guess. Basically, it finds out all your traits and decides which house would suit you best.”

Mollified, Hermione and Neville thanked him furiously, but Harry just waved them off, saying it was no problem. He then hurried back over to where his friends were watching.

“That was rather kind of you,” Pansy noted.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have thought to have done that,” Ron added.

“Honestly, Potter. You’re such a Hufflepuff!” Draco exclaimed. None of those things were said in a mean way, but Harry still felt he had to defend himself.

“I was only doing the right thing!” Harry protested. It was true. He just wanted to help them out. Neville and Hermione deserved that, at the very least, especially after everything that had happened. They got dumped in freezing lake water on their first day at Hogwarts! Surely they had suffered enough.

“We know,” Draco chuckled fondly.

At that moment, several first-years started screaming. Everyone swung around to see numerous transparent figures gliding in and out of the walls and across the room.  _ Ghosts, _ Harry realised, just as one – who appeared to be in an argument with another – passed through him. Harry gasped. It was like having a cold shower, except for your  _ insides _ , if that made sense.

“- gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not even really a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?” the ghost asked. Nobody answered. Harry was still trying to get over the strange feeling of something passing through him.

“New students!” exclaimed the ghost’s companion. “About to be sorted, I suppose?” A few people nodded. “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.” The ghosts then started to drift through the walls and into the Great Hall.

“Move along now,” shooed Professor McGonagall, who had just come back. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.”

The remaining few ghosts were gone in an instant. They all appeared to have a certain level of respect for the elderly witch, and Harry could see why. At McGonagall’s demand, the first-years all got into a line and shuffled into the Great Hall.

Harry looked around and gasped along with the others. The Great Hall was even bigger than the Entrance Hall! They may not have been able to determine the height of the last Hall’s ceiling, but this one had no end whatsoever, as it opened up onto the night sky above.

At least, that’s what Harry (and probably many others) thought before Hermione whispered, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in  _ Hogwarts: A History _ .”

The first-years attention was drawn back to Professor McGonagall as she silently placed a stool at the front of the Hall – and all its inhabitants. On top of this stool, she placed a ragged, pointed hat, which looked very out of place with the general elegance surrounding Hogwarts.

Harry certainly didn’t want that hat anywhere near his head, and, after a quick glance behind him to where Draco, Pansy and Ron were standing, his friends looked like they agreed. It didn’t even look that special – in fact, it was rather dirty and frayed. He briefly wondered why the hall of students was silent, because surely this hat didn’t do anything  _ too _ spectacular, when a rip near the brim opened.

The hat began to sing. After its song, Harry concluded two things:

First, Draco was right about the reading minds thing, if “there’s nothing hidden in your head, the Sorting Hat can’t see,” was to be believed and second, that Hufflepuff and Gryffindor didn’t appear to be as bad as the blond had made them out to be.

Once the applause had died down, Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she announced. “Abbott, Hannah!”

While a small girl with pigtails stumbled out of the line of first-years and put on the hat, Harry turned to his friends.

“I bet you a Sickle that she gets sorted into Hufflepuff,” Draco whispered to Pansy.

“Hey, that’s so unfair, I was going to say –“ Pansy’s protest was cut off by the Sorting Hat shouting out “Hufflepuff!”

Draco smugly held out his hand. Pansy rolled her eyes and fished around in her robes before pulling out a silver coin. “Whatever,” she muttered.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed, catching his eye. “Do you want to take a bet?” The boy was grinning – a stark contrast to how Harry and Ron looked. Realising this, Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, chin up. It’ll be fine. The only thing you have to worry about is a hatstall.”

“A what?!” both redheads cried.

“A hatstall. It’s what wizards call a new student who takes longer than five minutes to be sorted. They’re quite rare, so there’s no point agonising over it.” This information didn’t help either of them. “Look, Harry, just be glad you won’t be one of the last ones sorted, like Weasley over here.”

“Hey!”

“Shush, Ron. It’ll be my turn soon and you already have brothers to console you,” Draco said. “Potter, however, doesn’t.” Ron and Draco then started arguing, and Harry got distracted by the Sorting once more. He was glad he looked over when he did, because it was Hermione’s turn now.

When she sat down on the stool, Harry gave her a small, reassuring smile. She returned it just before the hat covered her eyes.

A few minutes later, the Sorting Hat declared her to be a Gryffindor. Ron groaned.

“No offense, Harry, but I’d rather not have her in what is likely to be my house,” he explained once he saw Harry’s disapproving expression.

A couple more sortings passed, and then it was Neville’s turn. Harry grimaced sympathetically when the boy tripped over his own feet on his way to the stool. Harry felt even sorrier for Neville when he ran off after being sorted into Gryffindor still wearing the hat.

The sortings flew by after him. Soon, “MacDougal, Morag,” was called and Harry immediately felt Draco tense up ever-so-slightly. It would be the blond boy’s turn next, so Harry understood his apparent nervousness.

However, when “Malfoy, Draco,” was finally called, it was like a switch had been flicked. Now that the school’s eyes were on him, he straightened and confidently strode up. Harry wondered how he could possibly look so composed. He watched with interest as the Sorting Hat was placed on Draco’s head and – no, it had barely even touched a single hair when it screamed, “Slytherin!” out to the Great Hall.

Harry clapped with pride. Draco shot him a grin as he went to join Crabbe and Goyle.

Then Pansy’s turn came, but not even ten seconds later, and she was sorted into Slytherin too. Harry wished desperately to be in Slytherin, or maybe Gryffindor with Hermione, Neville and (probably) Ron. His stomach twisted as the P’s were flying by, because surely it couldn’t be long now and then –

“Potter, Harry.”

He stepped forward. His anxiety only worsened when he heard the sudden silence. It didn’t last for long, as soon whispers were being passed not-so-secretly. All of them went a little something like:

“ _ Potter, _ did she say?”

“ _ The  _ Harry Potter?”

The Sorting Hat was soon dropped over his eyes, but not before he saw almost every student in the Hall craning to get a good look. Some were even standing up.

“ _ Hmm _ .” Harry jumped slightly when he heard a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness yes,” Harry doubted this, “and a thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting… So where shall I put you?”

Harry knew that the Sorting Hat was asking this rhetorically, but he couldn’t help but to think desperately,  _ ‘Slytherin, please. Or Gryffindor. Slytherin or Gryffindor, Slytherin or Gryffindor. _ ’

“Yes, yes, I’m trying to choose between the two,” the Hat said. After a moment of deliberation, it spoke again. “You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that…”

_ ‘Slytherin, then. Please _ .’

“Oh, I had already decided to put you in there, don’t worry. I merely wanted to make sure.” Not a second later, and the Sorting Hat held true to what it had said, as it had announced to a stunned Hall, “Slytherin!”


	4. Family Don't End in Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets acquainted with the other Slytherins. He also receives a lesson in blood.

Harry was too relieved that he didn't end up as a hatstall and was with Draco and Pansy to notice the way only Slytherins cheered and clapped for him on his short walk over. It was only when he had sat down in between Draco and Pansy and had looked around did he realise that for all the other first-years, they had gotten a few polite claps from the other tables, despite being in different houses.

Instead, every other house, especially the Gryffindors and even most teachers, were staring at him in shock. Harry ducked his head to stare at the empty table in front of him when the whispers started up again.

“Harry Potter?  _ A Slytherin? _ No way.”

“Potter’s a  _ Slytherin!  _ What does this mean?”

There were many others, all variations of the two. Harry couldn’t understand why this was.

“Harry,” someone whispered. He looked up at Draco’s still-composed face. “Ignore them. They’re just jealous. The other Slytherins are all proud, see?”

Harry couldn’t resist the temptation and sat up. What Draco had said about the Slytherins was mostly true, aside from one or two of the older students who were scowling at the redhead. Harry averted his gaze back towards the Sorting. Draco and Pansy slung an arm around his shoulders and out of the corner of his eye, he could see them glaring daggers at any student who dared to even look his way. He relaxed minutely, grateful for them.

“Weasley, Ronald.”

Harry watched intently as Ron walked up the stool. Like Draco, the hat had barely touched the boy’s head before declaring him a Gryffindor. Harry clapped enthusiastically, noting that Fred, George and Percy were doing the same. Ron seemed to sense his gaze, as a moment later, he looked over and waved cheerily.

Harry had been a little worried that Ron would snub him like the rest of the school had done, but in the end, he needn’t have. He waved back.

The last first-year to be sorted, Blaise Zabini, looked at him weirdly. The other Slytherins, aside from Pansy, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle (the last two too busy complaining about the lack of food), shared the same expression.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Potter, please tell me I didn’t see you just wave to a  _ Gryffindor. _ ” The scorn was evident in Blaise’s voice.

Harry suppressed a sigh.  _ Maybe hating my friends is another one of those wizarding customs I’m unaware of,’ _ Harry thought sarcastically.

Draco, who appeared to be resigning himself to the exact same thought, cut in. “Look, Blaise. Gryffindors are okay. Harry, Pansy and I know three of them and they’ve all been… reasonably nice.” Seeing Blaise’s disapproving look, he added, “Well, one of them was a blubbering mess and the other was rude and bossy, but –“ he saw Zabini smiling smugly and scowled. “It’s not like  _ you  _ can talk, though.”

Blaise still didn’t look convinced.

“Zabini, stop being a close-minded prat. That Gryffindor is a friend of  _ Harry Potter’s _ . Don’t you think that ought to mean something?” Pansy rolled her eyes. What she said must have had more effect on him, as a second later, he apologised.

“Sorry, Potter,” he muttered.

“No problem.” Harry waved him off. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

Draco and Pansy gave him guilty looks.

Everyone’s attentions were brought back to the front of the Hall as the eldest wizard of the teaching staff stood up. Harry recognised him as Albus Dumbledore from the Chocolate Frog card he had read on the train. He started trying to recall what the card had said – something about a dark wizard, dragon’s blood and a guy called Nick…  _ No, that can’t be it. Nicolas, perhaps? Yes. Now what was his last name? _

Harry was broken out of his thoughts at the sound of gasps filling the Hall. Apparently he was so distracted that he didn’t hear Dumbledore’s speech. He looked down and saw that the previously empty golden plates were now filled with every kind of food imaginable. His mouth watered. He saw the rest of the Slytherins serving themselves and quickly followed suit.

Harry had never seen so much food in his life. He piled his plate with some of everything – excluding a type of unappealing boiled sweet.

–

Harry had finished a quarter of what was on his plate – which, despite not sounding like much, was quite a feat,  considering how he wasn’t used to eating that much and the sheer amount of food he had hoarded – when a ghost captured his attention. Or, to put it more accurately, drifted through him.

The cold-shower-on-the-inside feeling gave Harry a nasty shock, but, believe it or not, that wasn’t what had made him lose his appetite.  _ I hope ghosts don’t make going through me a habit,  _ Harry thought, as the ghost finally noticed what it had done. It floated above the table in front of him instead. The redhead blanched as he took in the ghost’s bloodied robes, gaunt face, sunken eyes and pale complexion.

Draco didn’t look too happy with the ghost’s general appearance either.

“First-years,” the ghost greeted with a curt nod. “I am your house ghost. You may call me the Bloody Baron –  _ only _ the Bloody Baron.” A few of the Slytherins around him, including Harry, gulped. “I expect you all to win us the House Championship for the seventh year in a row. I hope you will  _ not _ disappoint me.”

This was all said very threateningly.

The Bloody Baron was called away by some older Slytherin. Harry sighed in relief, before pushing his almost completely full plate away. He glanced at Draco and saw the boy looking worried for a brief second, but then Harry blinked and the boy was already chatting to Blaise about something. Harry shrugged it off.

After a while, it became apparent that most of the first-year Slytherins knew each other from before Hogwarts, aside from two girls. One was very tall, towering over most of the Slytherin boys, with wild black hair. Harry thought he would not like to cross her at all. She introduced herself as Millicent Bulstrode.

The other was quite the opposite. She was on the small side of average for an eleven-year-old girl’s height, with tan skin and straight brown hair. This girl pushed up her glasses that, unlike Harry’s, suited her quite well, and announced, “Tracey Davis.”

Having finished long before everyone else, it gave Harry time to survey the staff table. Among them was Hagrid, who was drinking deeply from his goblet, Professor McGonagall, who was having a chat with Professor Dumbledore and a bunch of other teachers. The one that Harry was most interested in, however, was talking to Professor Quirrell.

The unknown teacher had raven-black hair, a hooked nose and unhealthily pale skin. He must have sensed Harry’s gaze, because suddenly he was looking straight at him. At the same time, an iron-hot pain flashed across the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Ow!” he cried, pressing a hand to his scar, but the pain was already gone. In its place, an uncomfortable feeling settled in.

“What happened?” Draco asked immediately. His worry only worsened when he saw how Harry was rubbing his scar.

“Nothing.” Draco kept looking at him. Desperate to change the subject, Harry then asked, “Draco, who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?”

Draco turned around. Upon seeing who Harry meant, his face lit up. “Oh, that’s Professor Snape. He’s the head of Slytherin and our Potions teacher.”

Harry recalled Draco telling him that on the boats earlier. Dread filled his stomach. “Right,” he mumbled. Malfoy didn’t pursue it further.

“So, what did you all do on your holidays?” Daphne Greengrass asked out of nowhere. “My family went to Paris! Such a shame, really. My sister and I wanted to go someplace else for a change.” She pouted. Daphne was blonde, tall, fair and pretty – kind of like the female version of Draco, Harry mused.

“My mother decided we needed  _ mother-daughter bonding time _ ,” Pansy mocked, “so instead of going overseas like we usually do, we were stuck in our manor doing nothing aside from sitting and talking while my father was ‘away on business’ at the Ministry. I did find out some good gossip, however. Blaise, why don’t you tell us what your mother has been up to?” Heads swivelled to the Zabini boy, who was scowling.

“Bugger off, Parkinson. But if you must know, my dear mother has a new suitor in her sights,” he said casually.

“What happened to the old one?” Theodore Nott taunted, not seeming to expect a real answer. He didn’t get one. “ _ I _ spent my holiday travelling across Europe. We got to meet the local wizards, though, more interestingly, I learnt about Ancient Rome. Did you know powerful wizards used to make muggles fight each other as a sport? I believe the muggles were called gladiators – something like that.”

“Don’t muggles do that now  _ without _ wizards controlling them?” Blaise pointed out. “Anyway, what about you, Potter?”

Everyone turned to face him. Harry didn’t know what to say. _‘Oh, my relatives kept me locked in a cupboard while you were all off with your families and half-starved me after I accidentally set a snake on my cousin at the zoo. Also, I only found out I was a wizard after Hagrid knocked down the door to a hut on a rock surrounded by sea. It’s a funny story on how I got there, why don’t I tell you?_ _Yeah, because that will go down well,’_ he thought bitterly.

Instead, he said, “What about Millicent and Tracey? We haven’t heard from them yet.”

Tracey spoke first. “My father, the wizard in my family, taught me some spells. I mostly spent the summer practising wand movements. My muggle mother tried to teach me how to cook, but it didn’t go very well.” She grimaced.

Millicent was next. “My mother gave me fashion magazines. I used  _ incendio _ on Witch Weekly until she got the hint.”

Harry wondered if he should point out that magic wasn’t allowed outside of school for underage wizards, but after seeing the others’ approving nods, he wasn’t sure.

“Now you, Potter. Surely the saviour of the wizarding world would’ve done something interesting over the holidays,” she demanded.

Harry gulped. There was no way he could pass it on to Crabbe or Goyle, as they were too busy stuffing their mouths with as much food as possible. Before he could think up a lie, however, Dumbledore stood up again.

“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered,” the wizard called out. “I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note the forest in the grounds is strictly forbidden to all pupils.” He droned on, telling them about the no-magic rule in corridors, Quidditch trials, and, most interestingly, about the third-floor corridor ban.

Harry must have spent too long wondering if he was serious about the whole “painful death” thing, as soon they were being called to the front of a tall Slytherin student. She had the same shiny badge with a ‘P’ on it that Percy had.

“First-years, over here please! My name is Gemma Farley and I’ll be leading you to your dormitories. Please remember that no one from other houses are allowed into our common room, so keep the password to yourselves. Follow me!”

As she led them away from the feast and down a staircase or two, the first-years all happily chatted amongst themselves.

“That was the most food I’ve ever seen – let alone had!” Harry laughed. Draco shot him a surprised look. It looked like he was about to say something when someone commented on the temperature drop. Harry shivered when he realised that it  _ was  _ pretty cold in what must have been the Hogwarts’ dungeons.

“You’ll get used to it!” Gemma called over her shoulder. They kept walking until they were in front of a blank stone wall.

Harry thought there must have been a mistake, or that maybe you had to tap the bricks in a pattern like Hagrid had done to get into Diagon Alley until Gemma said clearly, “ _ Meracus. _ ” This must have been the password they were expected to remember as a second later, the wall slid across to reveal a passageway. At the end was a well-lit room, with mostly green furnishings. All around were large windows that showed the murky water outside, giving the room a green tinge. Harry figured they were surrounded by the lake.

“The password changes every fortnight, so you need to keep checking the notices,” Gemma explained. “You see that stairway to your left that leads downwards? Those are the boy dormitories. The one on the right are the girls. A fair warning: boys cannot enter girl dormitories. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to come to me or any of the other Slytherin Prefects. Our Head of House is Professor Snape, who you can also come to. I think that’s all – I forget things easily – so off you go!”

With that, the first-years took it as their cue to race to the separate dormitories. The boys shoved their way into their new room and laughed as they sprinted to claim the best bed. Harry followed behind them at a more subdued pace, but he was just as excited as the rest of them.

The boys’ dormitories were luxurious. The first things Harry noticed as he entered were the six queen-sized, four-poster beds with thick green curtains hanging off them and the wall at the back of the room. As the boys around him fought over beds, Harry took in the glass wall that separated the dorm from what must have been the lake they travelled over an hour or so ago. As he watched, he saw lake creatures of all sizes dart around, too fast to identify. He swore he saw a human for a second, but then it was gone and all he could see was a large tail disappearing around the corner.

“Harry, hurry up and get over here!” Draco called, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

The blond had saved him the bed next to him. It was one of the closest to the only fireplace in the room  _ and  _ it was near the breath-taking window. Harry smiled gratefully as he rushed over to flop onto it before Blaise – who had been eyeing it off – or anyone else could take it.

He shot an apologetic look at Zabini. The boy just grumbled under his breath and stalked over to one of the other beds. Blaise was the last one to drag his trunk out of the pile of their belongings that had been brought up and to his new bed.

There were three beds on each side of the room: three against the glass wall and three on the side they had entered through. Draco and Theo, on each side respectively, were the closest to the fireplace. Next to Draco was Harry, then Blaise, and next to Theo was Crabbe, then Goyle. The two latter were already asleep and snoring rather loudly. Harry almost pitied Nott, but then he got too swept up in the conversation happening around him to care.

“Which subject are you looking forward to the most?” Draco asked the dorm. “Personally, I reckon Potions will be the best!”

Theodore laughed. “You’ve only told us that about a thousand times! Charms will be the most useful, though I suppose they won’t start teaching us the interesting stuff until next year at least.”

“Defence Against the Dark Arts sounds fun,” Harry put in.

“Finally, someone who knows what he’s talking about!” Blaise agreed. “I can’t wait to learn about hexes and jinxes!”

The boys chatted merrily. Soon the topic steered back to families and Harry found he couldn’t say anything of use. Instead, he just listened.

“I feel sorry for Millicent and Tracey,” Draco said absentmindedly. “They don’t know anyone!”

“Why is that?” Harry asked. His assumption from earlier was right.

Theo and Blaise cleared their throats awkwardly. “Potter, you need to know something about the wizarding world,” Nott began.

“Shut up!” Draco glared at the boy, who held his hands up in mock-surrender.

“Look, Malfoy, someone’s got to tell him, and it’s obvious you’re not,” he reasoned.

“Fine,” Draco huffed. He sat back on his bed and folded his arms, turning his glare to the floor.

“As I was saying, there’s something you need to know about the wizarding world and how it works. Specifically, families. All wizarding families, like the Malfoys, Parkinsons, Notts, Crabbes, Goyles – essentially every Slytherin in our year aside from you, Davis and Bulstrode – are what we call ‘purebloods’. The Potters used to be a pureblood family, until your dad married your mum, who was a muggleborn. Muggleborns are magical children born in muggle families, by the way,” he added, seeing Harry’s scrunched up face.

“Anyway, since your dad didn’t marry another pureblood, that makes you a halfblood. Purebloods who have children with halfbloods, muggleborns or muggles mean that their children are halfbloods. Halfbloods who have children with other halfbloods, muggleborns or muggles make their children halfblood. Basically, if it’s not a person with two pureblood parents, or if they’re not a muggleborn, they’re halfblood,” Theodore explained.

Harry turned this information around in his mind. It was quite a lot to take in.

“And what exactly are blood traitors? Draco said something about –“

“He did, did he?” Theo shot Draco a glare.

“I didn’t mean – look, I was being stupid,” the boy in question rushed to explain. “When Harry and I first met, I mistook him for a Weasley and said some unpleasant things, and-“

“Draco, Theo, don’t worry about it. Draco might have been a right prat at first, but he apologised,” Harry cut in. Draco reached over the divide between their two beds to shove Harry playfully.

“To answer your question, Potter, ‘blood traitor’ is a term used by some pureblood families to describe other pureblood families that associate with muggles, or don’t follow the traditional pureblood ways,” Blaise explained quietly.

From the way everyone was looking at the floor, Harry wondered if that meant their families believed in that kind of thing. It seemed rather stupid to Harry – family wasn’t something you could change, so why care about it?

It was a while until conversation picked up again. Theo, Blaise and Draco avoided the subject of families. Harry was all too happy to do the same.

Soon, the boys fell asleep one by one, until it was only Harry who was left awake, mulling over everything that had happened in his mind.

In one day he had panicked over being left at a train station in London, met the Weasleys, ran at a wall with his trolley, found himself on Platform 9 and Three-Quarters, got onto the Hogwarts Express, became friends with Ron, met Hermione, Neville, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, sailed across a lake, entered a castle, conversed with a mind-reading hat, been sorted into Slytherin, been drifted through  _ twice,  _ met the rest of the Slytherins in his year, went into an actual dungeon, came across yet another sliding wall, learnt more about the wizarding world and now here he was, with his bed against a solid glass wall that they had to trust wouldn’t break and flood them with water from the lake outside.

It was a lot to wrap his head around, to say the least. Harry rolled over and stared at the long-diminished fireplace. Three months ago, if you had told Harry Potter that his life was extraordinary, he would have laughed himself into hysterics.

Harry rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, willing for sleep to come. When it finally did, it was to the thought of the promised magical lessons he’d have the next day.


	5. Hardly Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets his bearings and learns that the Potions Master isn't what Draco made him out to be.

Harry burst upright. He was shaking as he took in his surroundings, half expecting to see the inside of a cupboard. It took him a while to realise that, no, this wasn’t the Dursleys’. This was Hogwarts.

_ Right _ , Harry thought tiredly. He was drenched in sweat and it was a few seconds until he could recall why. He buried his head in his hands when he remembered the same bright green light he’d been dreaming of for years. This nightmare, however, seemed a lot more real. Maybe it was because he had woken up before everyone else so it was quiet and dark (which always emphasised the worst parts of his nightmares), or because he now knew that the green light and screaming had actually happened.

His dream also contained Quirrell’s turban and  _ something _ whispering to him. This may not seem scary at all, but Harry couldn’t move and was forced to watch helplessly as the turban wrapped itself around his head and neck, suffocating him, while Snape looked on, doing nothing but smiling cruelly.

He tried to tell himself it was just a nightmare, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t had them before, but he couldn’t shake it off. He couldn’t go back to sleep, not when his heart was hammering and his breathing was still so frantic.

Since no one else was awake, and was unlikely to be soon, Harry decided to get something done. He grabbed his glasses off his bedside table, then reached into his trunk. He felt around for a few moments before pulling out the first book he came in contact with, which happened to be  _ Magical Drafts and Potions _ . Sighing, he figured he may as well try and learn something. Draco had also told him that their head of house was the Potions Master, and he didn't want to make a fool out of himself.

Wrapping the thick green blankets further around himself, Harry began reading. Really, the dungeon was too cold for mornings.

–

Draco was the first to wake. Harry watched, his potions textbook resting in his lap as the blond stretched and blinked blearily at his surroundings.

A moment later, he noticed Harry.

“Good morning,” the boy chirper.

“Mornin’,” Draco mumbled in reply. He yawned. “Why are you awake? You look like you’ve been up for a while.”

“I guess I’m an early riser.” It wasn't a lie, mostly. Harry had gotten into the habit of waking up just before his aunt’s persistent knocking, which was pretty early itself. Over the years, he had learnt that the earlier he got up, the easier it was to shake the sleep from his system when the Dursleys ordered him around.

“Yeah, right.” Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re more coherent than most people who have just woken up,” Harry noted.

“Don’t avoid the question.” Draco’s tone indicated that he wasn’t going to let this go.

Harry sighed. “Couldn’t sleep.” It was technically true. Besides, he didn’t want to relive his nightmares. He barely remembered it anymore anyway, so it honestly wasn’t worth diving into.

Draco cast an inquisitorial look over to where Harry was sitting on his bed. His eyes raked over the small boy, taking in the bags under Harry’s eyes. Draco also couldn’t help but notice the way his hair had stuck up in odd places.  _ Bed hair _ , he realised with an amused grin.

In the end, he decided not to comment.

“We should wake the others up,” Harry suggested eventually.

Draco thought this over. “ _ Or _ ,” he began, a grin spreading over his face, “we could not wake them up, have showers first so they don't steal the hot water, and teach them a lesson about not relying on others to get them up in the mornings.”

“But won't they be mad at us?” Harry protested half-heartedly. His mind was too preoccupied with the idea of a hot shower.

“Probably. However, it’s not like we can be held responsible if they are late. Really, Hogwarts should invest in some sort of alarm.”

It didn't take much convincing after that for Harry to agree. Whatever guilt he had was gone once he stepped into the warm spray of the shower.

–

“Malfoy, what the hell?” Theodore’s voice called behind Draco and Harry. The duo were just on their way to breakfast when a panting and very angry Nott and Zabini stopped them.

Draco sighed and turned around, shooting a grin at Harry. “What did I do?” He asked innocently.

“Cut the act, Draco,” Blaise drawled. “Why didn't you wake us up?”

“I told you they'd be mad,” Harry muttered to Draco.

“Harry, they're only mad at me,” the blond said. Harry wasn't very reassured, but he didn’t get a chance to voice this as Draco continued. “Zabini, Nott, consider this payback for the time you changed my hair colour that one summer at my house. I had to wait until my father got home while you two laughed yourselves silly. When you think about it, this is more than fair.” At least Harry now knew how Draco learnt the colour spell he had performed on Scabbers.

“We were like, eight, Malfoy!” Theo retorted, the same time as Blaise rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of course he cares more about his precious hair than his friends.”

Draco only laughed, before spinning on his heel and grabbing Harry’s arm. “Let’s go before their small brains figure out a way to get me back for it.”

With that, the two boys raced down Hogwarts’ stretching hallways, Harry trusting Draco to get them to the Great Hall despite this being their first morning.

–

They did get there in the end. Harry wasn’t sure how Draco had done it, as the only chance he would’ve had to memorise the route was when they were walking to the Slytherin common room last night – and the route seemed different from what Harry remembered. Then again, he was too busy trying to absorb every detail of his new home for the next year, and he had assumed that everyone else was doing the same. Apparently not.

The Slytherin duo entered the Great Hall. With only half the students there, Harry didn’t feel quite so scrutinised as he did last night, but as Draco led them over to the Slytherin table, he was all too aware of the not so secret whispering occurring all around him.

“I mean, I still can’t believe he’s in  _ Slytherin,  _ of all houses. Maybe it was a mistake.”

“Do you think he’s an imposter? Harry Potter wouldn’t be a Slytherin.”

“If he brushed his hair out of his face, we might be able to see his scar!”

Hearing all this, he kept his head down low and blindly followed Draco’s pull. Once they were on the left side of the room, Harry didn’t hear as much of the school’s overt whispering, but even a few of the Slytherins had things to say. It was clear that not everyone was happy to have The Boy Who Lived in their house.

As Draco motioned for Harry to sit next to him, he realised that they were seated at the end of the table, as far away from the older Slytherins as possible.

“I thought taking you the way I did this morning would allow us to avoid any nosy students, but obviously there was no avoiding it here,” Draco offered as explanation when Harry looked over curiously. “However, we can at least distance ourselves from it. Anyway, Potter, I wouldn’t bother thinking about those idiots when you have a feast right in front of you! For someone so skinny, you need it.”

Harry knew that Draco was only trying to take his mind off things, so even though he didn’t really feel like it, he got a decent serving of eggs and bacon on his plate and dug in. Draco for some reason waited until Harry had served himself before grabbing his own food.

The thought was quickly dismissed from Harry’s mind when Blaise, Theo and the rest of the Slytherin first-years joined them. Soon, their end of the table was one of the loudest groups in the whole hall as the lot joked around with each other.

Harry’s gaze was drawn by a group of three boys with bright red hair entering the Great Hall. Harry got up from his seat and started the walk over, ignoring the stares from the Slytherins he passed.

“Morning, Ron!” Harry greeted.

“Morning, Harry,” Ron replied. His brothers – Fred and George, but not Percy, Harry saw – stood a little off to the side.

“Ron, you didn’t tell us you were friends with Harry Potter!” One of them exclaimed.

“Yeah, as your favourite brothers, you’re supposed to tell us these things!” the other chimed in. Ron looked a tad sheepish.

Harry was just glad that the three Weasleys in front of him, at least, didn’t seem to mind his Slytherin status. Plus, what he had heard about the twins made them out to be fun people to hang around.

“Do you know if we have any lessons together?” Harry asked hopefully.

Ron nodded. “Yeah, we have potions together Friday mornings! And flying on Thursday afternoons, starting next week. I can’t wait to fly again!”

“We get to fly?!” Harry had never flown before, not including the time Hagrid had taken him on his flying motorbike as he was too young to remember.

“Of course, Potter.” Draco drawled as he approached. “All first-years get lessons. Not that many of the Slytherins will need them, but I suppose you’re an exception.”

“Oh.” The lessons didn’t sound so appealing anymore. He didn’t want to be the only one who couldn’t fly. What if he fell off his broom while everyone else was zooming around?

“Don’t listen to Malfoy, Harry. Fred could barely get off the ground our first time!” a twin – George – reassured, while his counterpart shot a vicious warning look over to Harry’s friend.

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about anything until second-year, which is when you’ll be allowed to try out for your house’s Quidditch team!” Fred grinned.

“What do you mean?” Harry questioned.

“It’s a violent sport! Quite a lot of broken bones –“

“And concussions –“

“Possibly death, too!”

“Hypocrites,” Draco muttered. “Anyway, Potter, we should head back to the Slytherin quarters. The prefects hate tardiness. I suppose that they get that from Professor Snape.”

“Have you met him before?” Harry asked, forgetting all about flying.

“Yeah. He’s… sort of a family friend. My father went to school with him.” With that, Draco walked off, and Harry quickly apologised to Ron before running after him. After all, he didn’t want to be late. Snape already made him feel uncomfortable and he didn’t want to get on his bad side early on.

“Don’t we have a lesson this morning?” Harry said when he caught up.

“Usually, yes. However, they have to lay out the rules at  _ some  _ point, which is what the Orientation is for. Better sooner than later, right?” Harry nodded. “I heard that Gryffindors don’t have this talk – probably why they never win the House Cup, don’t you think?”

This time, Harry didn’t respond.

–

The first week was mostly spent learning the basics of magic and getting their bearings of the castle. It was a good thing that the second-year Slytherins were willing to offer them directions and advice, as most of the other houses and the ghosts either outright refused or simply ended up getting them lost.

For some reason, Harry’s friends discouraged him from talking to older Slytherins. Blaise had warned him that there were quite a few of the sixth and seventh years who had a lot to say about Harry, but Pansy had elbowed him before Harry could find out more.

Friday morning found Harry awake but reluctant to get out of bed just yet. He tugged the green quilt tighter around himself as he desperately tried to savour what little warmth he had for a moment longer. Draco, however, had other plans.

“Potter, wake up!” he whisper-shouted as he ripped the blankets away from Harry’s shivering body. “Get up so we can have breakfast already!”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Zabini muttered, face hid in his pillow. “What’s got you so excited this morning? You’re usually a princess when it comes to getting your beauty sleep.”

“You’re one to talk,” Draco retorted before rushing off to the bathroom.

Harry took a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes. Tuesday night he had finally caught up on all the sleep he had missed, what with his nightmare the first day at Hogwarts and a midnight astronomy class on Monday, and he realised that he should take full advantage of not having to wake up at the crack of dawn anymore. Needless to say, he could understand the other Slytherin boys’ frustration at being woken up so suddenly by Draco.

“It’s because it’s our first Potions lesson,” Theodore Nott yawned. He sat up in bed and stretched his arms above his head. To his right, Crabbe and Goyle had just woken up too. Not wanting to have to use the bathroom after them, Harry quickly gathered up his uniform as his stomach fluttered at the thought of Potions.

From what Draco had told him, it was going to be the best subject yet. Then again, he had thought that about Defence Against the Dark Arts and, well, Professor Quirrell was perhaps not the best teacher for that job. Plus, Harry kept getting headaches in that classroom.

–

At breakfast, the Slytherins were all waiting with baited breath for when they could rush off to Potions. Pansy and Draco were talking each others’ ears off as they enthused about Potions, and Daphne and Blaise were discussing their favourite skin potions, whatever that was supposed to mean. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who weren’t the most studious by far, were ploughing through this morning’s porridge.  _ Then again,  _ Harry thought, _ that wasn’t much different than normal _ .

With most people around him engaged in conversation, excluding Millicent (who scared him, if he was honest) and Tracy (who was content to keep to herself), Harry scanned the faraway Gryffindor table for the Weasley clan.

Percy was busy talking to the other Gryffindor prefect, and Fred and George were nowhere to be found. Harry had a feeling that later in the day the school would know  _ exactly  _ what they had gotten up to.

The Gryffindor first-years weren’t bundled up at the end like the Slytherin first-years were, so it took Harry a while to spot them. When he did, he noticed that they were all joking around with older years and he thought back to what Blaise was saying. Now that he thought about it, it seemed every Slytherin  _ but  _ his year were more than happy to converse with one another.

Was that his fault?

He didn’t get the chance to dwell on it much longer, because Ron had looked his way. They smiled at each other in excitement as they hadn’t seen each other much that week.

Harry’s gaze was torn away as the morning post arrived. Hundreds of owls burst into the Great Hall and Harry stared down at his porridge. All around him, letters and the occasional gift were dropped in front of his friends, all from their family or friends from outside of Hogwarts. Harry hadn’t gotten any mail all week, not that he minded too much. If he could go the whole year without hearing from the Dursleys, then sign him up.

Hedwig flew up to him and Harry grabbed a piece of toast for her, assuming she was there for food like she usually was. The owl nipped his ear to get his attention before presenting her claw before dropping a scrolled piece of parchment on Harry’s lap.

He glanced around, wondering if it was someone else’s. Draco saw this and nudged him.

“Well, are you going to read it?” he asked, looking as if he was about to snatch it out of Harry’s hands if he didn’t right this second.

Harry unrolled the letter and scanned it. “It’s Hagrid,” he answered Draco’s impatient huff. “He wants to talk about my week this afternoon. You should come too!”

Draco hesitated. “He won’t mind, will he?”

“Of course not,” Harry replied, wondering why Draco was so unsure. “Just come, trust me!”

Draco made a noncommittal hum. “Come on, Potter, we’ll be late for Potions at this rate.”

–

In the end, it didn’t matter how early he was to Snape’s lesson. The moment he set foot in one of the colder parts of the dungeons that had been fashioned into a classroom, Snape singled Harry out in front of the combined class of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

The lesson had started fine enough – the class filed in and Harry claimed a seat next to Ron as their professor fetched some ingredients, Draco to the right of him. Harry and Ron took the opportunity to catch up on their week and complain about History of Magic class, while Draco organised his materials and sat up ramrod straight in his chair, determined to make a good impression. It was either that, or he wanted to look busy in case Crabbe and Goyle attempted conversation with him.

The redheads were so engaged in their conversation that they didn’t notice when Professor Snape returned, bringing the rest of the room to an uneasy silence. It was only when Draco elbowed Harry – quite hard – that they stopped to see Snape standing in front of their desks, scowling as he stared them down.

They snapped their mouths shut.

“Now that certain students have decided to show some respect,” Snape drawled, each word he spoke having a bite to it, “let’s begin our lesson. I’m sure Mr. Potter wouldn’t mind another chance to open his mouth, so why don’t we start with him explaining what I’d get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry’s heart raced as he thought back to what he had read so far in his textbook. He recognised the  _ name  _ wormwood at least, but he couldn’t remember its properties, let alone what he’d get when adding asphodel to it!

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry admitted, quiet voice magnified in the still silence of the room. The only person who dared to move was Hermione, who had her hand straight in the air.

Snape’s scowl turned into a mocking sneer. “Clearly fame isn’t everything. Let’s try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Harry was all too aware of Hermione’s hand shooting once more in the air, and even Draco straightened up in recognition. He had definitely read about this one.

“It’s a stone, sir, found in a…” Harry paused. “It’s found in a goat’s stomach, I think.”

“I see you at least bothered to skim the first chapter,” Snape growled. “Surely you know the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, then?”

Harry was stumped. He knew what one of them looked like, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember which. Hermione seemed to know though, but Draco was frowning.

“I’m not sure.” Harry murmured. He stared at the grains on his desk, letting his red hair flop down in front of his eyes.

“Let’s see you take a guess, Potter,” Snape goaded.

Harry clenched his fist and he met Snape’s steely gaze. “All I know is that one of them is a poisonous purple flower, not the difference, but I think Hermione does. Why don’t you try her?”

Ron’s hand flew to his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle his laugh, whereas Pansy, Blaise and a few of the other Gryffindors sniggered openly. Even Draco had a hint of a smile that Harry saw, despite the fact the blond had turned his head away from Harry.

Snape’s eyes flashed with fury. Harry was worried he was about to hex him or poison him or  _ worse,  _ but instead he told Hermione to sit down. “For your information,  _ Potter,”  _ his last name was spat with such venom Harry flinched, “asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death. You got lucky with bezoar, but as for monkshood and wolfsbane, they’re the  _ same plant. _ ”

“That’s hardly fair!” Harry cried out, but was soon silenced once again by a sharp look from Snape.

“I expect everyone to copy that down. And for such blatant disrespect, a point will be taken from Gryffindor for openly encouraging misconduct.”

Harry was ready to protest yet again, as it wasn’t right for Gryffindors to get punished for  _ laughing  _ when Harry’s house didn’t lose a single point, but Draco laid his hand on Harry’s arm and shook his head minutely. Harry looked to Ron for support, but even he seemed resigned to Snape’s punishment, so he slumped back in his seat and finished off his notes.

He didn’t understand why Snape despised him so much – or why Draco was excited for this lesson, for that matter. At least he and Ron got to talk some more as they had paired off to work on a potion.

At first he felt a tad guilty about not going with Draco, but when he stole glances at Draco and Blaise’s potion, he saw they both looked like they knew exactly what they were doing.

He and Ron were as clueless as each other, which was probably why they drew most of Snape’s heat. In the end, they found they didn’t mind too much as it gave them something to talk about as they left the classroom an hour later.


	6. Thursday's Flying Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry introduces Hagrid to Ron, Draco and Pansy, and gets yelled at by McGonagall.

“I had heard that Snape was awful, but I didn’t think he’d be that horrible!” Ron exclaimed as he and Harry made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

It was just the two of them. After Potions, Draco had told Harry to go on without him. Apparently, Snape wanted to talk to him or something. Pansy had decided to wait for Draco, and while Harry liked the other Slytherins well enough, he would much rather talk to Ron.                        

Harry nodded. “The other Slytherins were  _ excited  _ for Potions! Worst of all, Draco’s family is apparently friends with Snape, so he actually  _ likes _ him.”

Ron pulled a face. “That’s not much of a surprise, though. They are  _ Malfoys;  _ it only makes sense that they’d know someone like Snape.”

Harry stopped walking. “What do you mean by that?” He asked, frowning.

When he had first introduced Draco to Ron, it was obvious that the two were well aware of each other’s families. Now that he knew about the wizarding world’s obsession with blood purity, the argument between the two on the boat finally made sense.

It wasn’t like he was oblivious to the fact that Draco’s family were blood purists, but he had no clue to what extent. And he didn’t know that Snape was one too. It seemed that everyone but him knew these things.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know. Well, years ago, the wizarding world had a war. You see, You-Know-Who was recruiting purebloods into his ranks, and they were all very powerful dark wizards and witches. They were You-Know-Who’s right hand men, and they’d torture and kill muggleborns, halfbloods and any pureblood who didn’t fall into line. That’s why your parents were, you know…” Ron waved his hand and quickly moved on. “Anyway, people who followed You-Know-Who were called Death Eaters, and Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s dad, was one. Course, nobody could ever prove it. I’ve heard rumours that Snape was one too, and I’d believe it!”

This new information kept Harry deep in thought, which was probably why he didn’t register when he followed Ron to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to him. By then, they were engrossed in conversation yet again, so that didn’t help either.

“You know, your table is on the other side of the room.”

Harry whipped his head around to see Hermione across from where he and Ron were sitting. It was only then that he noticed almost all of the Gryffindors nearby were staring at him. He got the feeling that this time, it wasn’t for being The Boy Who Lived.

“Should I go?” Harry whispered to Ron, who was also aware of the glares Harry was being given.

Ron hesitated before answering. “No, no, you should stay. It’s not like people sitting with other houses is entirely unheard of – Fred and George are often scheming with a Hufflepuff in their grade, called Luciana or something like that. She’s a weird one, so I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss over you.”

Harry was sure that Ron knew exactly why the Gryffindors were acting like that, and from Hermione’s grimace, she knew too.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension around them, Harry turned back to Ron. “Hey, what do you have this afternoon?”

“Nothing! On Fridays, Gryffindors get the afternoon off!” Ron boasted. “Why?”

Harry grinned. “Same with Slytherin! Hagrid invited me over to his hut for some afternoon tea. Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ron agreed. “What time are we going there?”

Before Harry could reply, someone behind them spoke up. “Where are we going?” Pansy asked, Draco beside him.

“Hagrid’s hut this afternoon. You should come too!” Harry exclaimed.

“Obviously I’m going, Harry,” Pansy replied, plonking herself next to him. She pulled Draco down onto the seat beside her and she seemed to relish in the glares she received from around the table.

“So what did you two talk to Snape about?”

Pansy glanced at Draco, biting her lip. “Oh, nothing really. I’ll tell you about it later.” She tapped her pointer finger against her lips in a shushing motion and nudged her head towards Draco, who was glumly picking at a few grapes.

Harry got the hint and shut up.

–

After Herbology, Harry dragged Pansy and Draco back to the castle’s entrance to wait for Ron. The three Slytherins had agreed that was the best course of action, but that didn’t stop the other two from complaining as they trudged their way up the hill.

Draco and Pansy’s argument over whether Pansy should’ve worn her robes despite it being warm in the morning was cut short by Ron rushing out of the castle, robes billowing behind him.

“What’s wrong with you, Weasley?” Draco asked. “You look like you’ve been told off by the Bloody Baron.”

“Might as well have been,” Ron panted. He slung an arm around Harry and started to walk with the Slytherins towards Hagrid’s hut. “Just came from Charms and bloody hell, that Granger is annoying.” Seeing Harry’s disapproving look, Ron quickly amended, “I mean, she gets Gryffindor a ton of points, but she’s  _ such  _ a know-it-all.”

“Sorry Harry, but I think I’m going to have to agree with Weasel over there,” Draco chimed in. “Did you see her in Potions this morning? I thought she’d almost fall off her chair without how desperate she was to answer Snape’s questions.”

Harry didn’t ask the burning question on his mind just yet, as he was glad Draco was back to his normal self. Still, the curiosity burned away inside of him.  _ What did Snape want? _

“I’m just glad you’re still alive,” Pansy added. “When you argued with  _ Snape,  _ we all thought you were a goner!”

“Yeah, that was bloody brave of you, mate! You could’ve been a Gryffindor alongside me, I bet!”

“Actually, the Sorting Hat gave me a choice between the two,” Harry replied. “It said I had plenty of courage, but that I’d be great in Slytherin.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky that you were put with us.” Draco slung his arm around Harry too and leaned over to mock-whisper into his ear. “If you were put in Gryffindor, I’d pretend that I didn’t know you.”

“I’m right here, Malfoy,” Ron muttered, but his smile showed he didn’t take offense to it.

“Don’t remind me.”

Pansy whacked Draco’s arm. “Play nice, Draco. Gryffindors don’t have skin as thick as Slytherins. If you want to whine about something, whine about how we had to walk from the Greenhouse to the castle, only to walk down this bloody hill again.”

“The exercise will do you good, Pansy.” This comment earned another hit to his arm. Before the two could start hexing each other into oblivion, Harry sped up and dragged Draco away from Pansy’s glower. He stopped outside a rickety wooden door and knocked on it.

Behind it came a series of high-pitched and ear deafening barks.

The first-years heard Hagrid’s gruff voice commanding the dog –  _ Fang –  _ to get back, before he swung open the door. Harry was still taken aback at just how large Hagrid was.

“Come in, ‘arry, come in. I see yer’ve got yer friends with yer.” The first-years shuffled into Hagrid’s hut and found chairs to sit on, around a small table holding a slightly broken teapot and several large cups. There was also a plate with small, hard-looking cakes on it.

“Make yerselves at home.” He let go of the collar of the massive dog beside him, and Fang bounded up to the first-years, circling them and leaping up against them to lick their faces

Draco and Pansy looked like they had a few choice words they’d love to yell right now, but they both kept their mouths shut in the presence of Hagrid. The man was clearly fond of the animal, and Harry thought he wouldn’t take too kindly to the Slytherins’ insults.

“This is Draco. We met at Madam Malkin’s,” Harry explained. “The girl next to him is Pansy, and you’ve already met Ron.”

“Weasley, I s’ppose? Yeh better not be as much trouble as those twin brothers of yours.” Hagrid laughed gruffly, showing that he’s joking. A little colour returned to Ron’s face.

“Help yerselves to the rock cakes while I make yer some tea.”

Ron leant over to the table containing the cakes immediately and took two. Draco and Pansy, however, waited until after Ron had bitten into it – or tried to. It looked like that those things were impossible to eat without chipping a few teeth, and as soon as Hagrid turned around to boil water, Ron chucked it to Fang.

Draco and Pansy proceeded to loudly discuss how much they’d eaten at lunch, and how they couldn’t possibly eat anything else. Harry, however, didn’t want Hagrid to feel bad so he took one and did his best to eat it. (He managed it after a few minutes, and they weren’t too bad in taste, but Harry’s jaw quickly got sore.)

Hagrid poured them all a cup and together, the four of them filled him in on their week so far. It was quickly found that everyone in the room loathed Filch and his cat. Even Pansy, who was a self-admitted cat person, had to agree that Mrs. Norris was the worst thing to happen to Hogwarts to date.

Harry and Ron were surprised that Hagrid defended Snape when they tried to tell him about their awful Potions lesson.

“He was horrible to Harry!” Ron cried, but this fell on deaf ears.

“Snape wouldn’t do that ter Harry! ‘Specially ‘cause o’ his mum.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. “I didn’t know my mum knew Snape.”

“Course she did. They were in the same year, but don’t yeh worry about tha’.” Hagrid turned to Ron, shutting down any further questions Harry had. “How’s yer brother Charlie?”

Draco and Pansy seemed rather bored until Ron revealed that Charlie worked with dragons. After that, everyone but Harry got involved in the conversation. Harry didn’t really have any input, as he had thought dragons were a myth until very recently, so instead he sat back in the oversized armchair and looked around the room.

The stool beside him contained a newspaper, but when Harry looked again, he saw that the photos were  _ moving.  _ Intrigued, he picked it up.

The headline blared **_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_** underneath _The Daily Prophet._ The photo showed a goblin frowning at the press, and Harry recognised him as the one Hagrid had talked to about the vaults.

Speaking of the vaults, the more Harry the more it seemed that the article was referring to vault 713 – the one with only the smallest of packages.

“Hey, there was a break in on my birthday!” he exclaimed, capturing the attention of those around him. Draco leant over to read the article with him while Hagrid shifted uneasily.

“More tea, anyone?” He asked.

Pansy was the only one that replied. As soon as Hagrid was out of earshot, the four of them were whispering furiously about their knowledge of the event – Pansy had heard from her mother who had been told by Blaise’s father who worked at the ministry that vault 713 was one belonging to Nicolas Flamel.

Draco opened his mouth in surprise. “Wait,  _ the  _ Nicolas Flamel?”

“What are yer doing talkin’ ‘bout Nicolas Flamel?” Hagrid barked out. When no one replied, he shook his head. “S’ppose it’s gettin’ late. Yer better head back ter the castle. Go on then, hurry along now.”

“Well, that was suspicious,” Ron commented as Hagrid’s door all but slammed shut behind them.

“You can say that again,” Pansy huffed. She crossed her arms over her chest. It may be early autumn, but there was quite the chill in the air, and Pansy, being Pansy, was too stubborn to admit that she was cold.

Harry noticed her state despite her attempts to hide it. He shrugged off his robes (he was so used to the cold after years of Dudley’s stretched t-shirts instead of jumpers that he barely felt it anymore) and offered it to Pansy. “Here,” he said.

Pansy looked as if she was about to decline, but Harry added, “I’m feeling hot anyway,” and she gratefully put them on.

“Thanks.”

Draco’s head whipped to her. “Pansy? Thanking someone? Dear Merlin, I think I’m in another universe! Quickly, someone hex me, I must be dreaming!”

“Oh, sod off, Draco,” Pansy laughed. “When Potter gets older, the girls will be all over him for being such a gentleman, and then you won’t be smirking like a prat!”

“Harry’s too scared of girls for that to ever happen,” Draco cut in. “Have you seen the way he acts around Millicent?”

Ron shrugged. “To be fair, I’m also a bit afraid of her and I don’t have to see her  _ that _ often.”

The four bickered all the way to the castle, occasionally making a plan or two for the weekend. By the time they had to split up to go to their separate ways, Harry had forgotten that Pansy never did end up telling him what their meeting with Snape was about.

–

The next week couldn’t go any faster, if you asked Harry.

The teachers who had taken it easy on them in the first week were assigning scrolls and scrolls of homework, and the teachers who Harry thought couldn’t get any worse did. Snape was particularly vicious on Monday’s lesson. While he ignored Harry, Ron almost got detention when he stirred clockwise instead of anticlockwise until Draco did the same thing – and the only positive about the essay they were assigned was that they wouldn’t see Snape again until Friday.

History of Magic on Tuesday mornings allowed Harry to catch up on any sleep lost due to Astronomy lessons. Professor Binns’ voice was slow and gravelly, making for perfect white noise that he and many other Slytherins took full advantage of. The only people who at least tried to look attentive were Draco and Tracy. (This was probably the cause of Tracy’s newfound friendship with the other Slytherin girls.)

Transfiguration and Charms were the only subjects Harry liked (Professor Quirrell was too nervous to teach well), but they were gruelling. Harry had spent an entire lesson attempting to transfigure a match into a needle, only to tinge it silver, and while he was able to get his feather to float with the levitation charm, it never lasted long.

All of this was forgotten during Thursday afternoon’s class.

Professor Binns droned on in the background while all the purebloods boasted about their Quidditch skills.

Pansy and Blaise were retelling the story they called “The Great Adventure of ‘88” while Draco and Daphne attempted to figure out who had the bigger Quidditch field at their manor. Even Millicent and Theodore were planning a match against Crabbe and Goyle to determine who the better beater duo was.

Harry saw Tracy also had nothing to say on the topic, so he got up from the desk he shared with Draco and instead sat beside her.

“Have you never played Quidditch too?” he asked.

Tracy looked up from her book in surprise. She pushed her short black hair behind her ear before replying. “I’ve never been on a broom,” she admitted.

“Me neither. I’m excited for it, but at the same time…”

“You’re worried you’re going to make a fool out of yourself?” Tracy guessed. Harry nodded. “Well, at least we’re in the same boat. And we’re flying with Gryffindors – they have plenty of muggleborns who probably only just found out what a broom does in the wizarding world.”

“I guess you’re right.” They were silent for a moment. “So… uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking but you’re a halfblood, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Tracy turned towards him, crossing her arms and frowning.

“It’s nothing bad! I am too, I was just wondering why you’ve never flown before. Do your parents not like flying?” Harry inquired.

“Oh. Well, sort of. My mum’s a muggleborn and she didn’t get flying lessons back then. My dad – he’s a halfblood but he always says he was too busy to fly. Mum reckons it’s because he’s scared of heights, though.”

Harry laughed just as Professor Binns announced that the lesson was ending early for flying practice. Not waiting a moment longer, the Slytherins rushed out, jostling each other in their haste to leave.

Draco found Harry and pulled him to the front of the crowd and together, they raced down the staircases until they got to the ground floor. There, they saw Gryffindors filing out of what appeared to be a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.

At this point, the Gryffindor boys and Hermione didn’t care too much about the Slytherins, but the Gryffindor girls refused to go within ten feet of the mishmash of first-years.

A girl that Ron told Harry was called Lavender tried to pull Hermione to stay back with them, but the bushy-haired girl quickly brushed her off and went to talk to Neville.

Like Neville, Harry didn’t mind Hermione’s chatter. He was actually rather thankful, as she was relaying a stream of flying tips she had learnt. Maybe he wouldn’t go into this making a fool out of himself after all.

When they finally arrived, their instructor – Madam Hooch – wasn’t there.

“Neville, you should show Harry your Remembrall,” she prodded. Neville lifted it out of his robes and showed Harry a small clear ball with red smoke inside. “It turns red when you’ve forgotten something,” she explained, “and he’s being trying to remember all morning!”

“Where’d you get that?” Harry asked, taking a closer look.

“Breakfast this morning. My gran sent it!” Neville answered.

Harry tuned out a little after that. He hardly ever got mail – he’d be surprised if the Dursleys remembered to pick him up at the end of the year. Maybe he should send them a Remembrall.

Draco, Blaise and Daphne got a letter from their parents almost every day. Just today, Draco had received a box packed full of chocolates. It was probably pity that made him share them with Harry, he thought.

The crowd of first-years fell silent as Madam Hooch hurried her way up the hill. She was peculiar – not only because of her yellow eyes that appeared to dart towards any and every move, but also because of her precise movements. Harry got the feeling she wasn’t entirely human.

She ordered them to stand next to one of the fraying broomsticks on the ground and raise their hand above it.

Twenty first-years shouted “UP!” at once, but only Harry, Draco and Millicent’s broom jumped into their hands.

“I thought you said you’ve never been on a broom before,” Tracy muttered as her broom hovered for a second before clattering to the ground. Harry gave an apologetic shrug.

After a couple of minutes, everyone was on a broom awaiting Madam Hooch’s whistle. Before it even touched her lips, Neville had kicked off the ground and was rising quickly. The laughter dissipated as Neville rose further still, nearing the top of a roof of one of the lower-lying parts of the castle.

Then he started to slip.

Everyone gasped as he fell, but no one was able to take out their wands fast enough – not even Madam Hooch. Neville landed with a dull thud and was soon half-carried off to the hospital wing.

The rest of them were left with stern instructions not to leave the ground in Madam Hooch’s absence, and so they awkwardly milled about until Hermione piped up.

“Is that Neville’s Remembrall?” she called out.

Harry looked up to see the now completely clear ball glinting in the sun, caught on a tile. It wouldn’t be for long though – Harry could see it slipping. If it fell, then it would shatter on the small path below it.

Neville was nice to Harry and the thing seemed important to him, so Harry didn’t really think twice before he kicked off and sped towards it. He ignored the incredulous shouts of his peers as he focussed on the ball that was travelling down the slant at a steady pace. It teetered on the edge before it fell and Harry dove with it, almost perpendicular to the very solid earth he was hurtling towards.

He stretched his arm out, wind whipping his hair and causing his robes to billow above him. At the very last second, he closed his fingers tight around the ball and pulled the end of his broom up. He shot back towards the stunned first-years, feet almost touching the ground, and he came to a smooth stop back at his place in line.

His friends converged on him, switching between celebrating and berating him. Harry felt truly euphoric – even the Gryffindor girls were congratulating him for such a dive.

The furious yell of “HARRY POTTER!” scattered them though. Everyone but Draco took a step away from Harry as Professor McGonagall stormed over.

Harry gulped and stared at the trampled grass beneath his feet as he got off his broom and endured McGonagall’s spiel. He wordlessly followed her back into the castle, shame settling in and burning the tips of his ears and his cheeks.

Draco hurried alongside them, attempting to convince McGonagall that it wasn’t Harry’s fault, really, because he was looking out for someone and as the Head of Gryffindor, shouldn’t she understand?

McGonagall only shushed him as she marched her way down into the dungeons

Harry’s eyes stung as he realised he was heading for Snape’s office. He’d probably be handed over to him for punishment, and with Snape’s vendetta against him he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d be packing his bags in the next ten minutes.

He didn’t want to go back – Merlin, he’d rather do anything than head back to the Dursleys after the glorious week and a half he’d spent at Hogwarts. In that short amount of time, Harry had felt more at home than ever, and he didn’t want to say goodbye so soon.

And that was  _ if _ corporal punishment wasn’t banned at Hogwarts – from what he’d heard Filch mutter about, it was something he was rather fond of. Would he be caned in front of everyone?

Harry winced as he just imagined it – the biting of the cane on his still-thin back and the utter humiliation as everyone laughed. Or maybe he’d be hexed. Who knew what wizards considered appropriate punishment?

A few of the older Slytherins had murmured about a torturing curse – that wouldn’t be used on him, right?

“Professor,” Harry spoke up at last, “how am I going to be punished?”

He thought it was a reasonable question – he at least wanted to be prepared – but by the look in McGonagall’s eyes it was the wrong thing to say.

She didn’t reply though. Instead, she rounded a corner and stopped outside of a heavy oak door. She rapped on it and waited for Snape to open it.

“Professor,” Snape greeted curtly. His mouth twisted into the scowl Harry was far too accustomed to when he saw the boy. “To what do I owe the  _ pleasure? _ ”

Harry looked away from Snape’s unforgiving glare. It’d be any second now that McGonagall would announce Harry was to be sent off at once, and then he’d never see Draco or Pansy or Ron ever again-

“Severus, I believe I’ve found an answer to your Quidditch problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway! We're getting there - slowly but surely.
> 
> Leave a comment about what you think of this chapter maybe?


	7. Quidditch, Trolls and Other Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry faces a near-death experience and the Slytherin-Gryffindor friends interrogate Hagrid.

Harry adjusted his Quidditch robes for what felt like the tenth time in the last minute until Draco pulled his arms away from his uniform.

“Harry, seriously, stop worrying. It’s just tryouts – no one’s going to care too much if you don’t get in because you’re still a first-year, for Merlin’s sake! It’s impressive enough that you managed to get  _ into  _ tryouts,” he assured.

“Right,” Harry sighed. He glanced up to the stands where the other Slytherin first-years were assembled. They had come down to support him and he didn’t want to let them down if he wasn’t as good as they seemed to believe.

It was true though – he had somehow weaselled his way into trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Instead of ordering him out of the castle like Harry thought, McGonagall told Snape about Harry’s skills – that he’d make a brilliant Seeker. Snape wasn’t the only one who had a hard time believing this.

It took quite a lot of convincing on Professor McGonagall’s part (and Harry suspected Draco’s word of recommendation had a lot of sway too), but Snape was cornered into at least allowing Harry to attend tryouts. There he’d have to put his skills to the test, and if the Captain liked him – a sixth year called Marcus Flint – then he’d be on the team.

And that was how he found himself mounting the Nimbus 2000 Blaise had gifted him when he had heard the news. Draco got him gloves and Pansy had wished him luck because, in her words, that was the best gift Harry could ever hope for.

He cast one last look over to the stands.

“You’ll be fine, Harry!” Draco shouted as he climbed them to sit with the other first-years.

“Yeah, you’re a natural!” Tracy added.

“Just don’t embarrass us too much!” Pansy yelled.

Harry smiled as he took off.

Flint had the hopeful Quidditch players running drills for half an hour. Harry dodged Bludgers as best as he could, but the Beaters – all burly fifth years or above – seemed to have it out for him. Still, he managed to move onto the next drill without any broken bones, so he counted it as a win.

He lost himself in flying. It was a rush – seeing how far he could dive, the ground rushing towards him, or shooting straight up so fast he was almost lifted off the broom. By the time they were called back to the ground, Harry didn’t want to part from his Nimbus ever again.

“Alright,” called Marcus. “Everyone trying out for Beater, line up over here. Chasers, opposite them, Keepers beside Chasers and Seekers beside Beaters.” Everyone hurried to get into their respective groups.

There was only one other person trying for Seeker, and it was yet another sixth year. He didn’t sneer at Harry like the other potential players, but he didn’t exactly look like he’d be too pleased having a conversation with him.

“I’m going to split you up into two teams and Pucey will fill in for whatever team ends up with two Chasers. I’m also a Chaser, but I’m going to referee today.”

Judging by the way the Slytherins paired up and attempted to dissuade another tryout from joining the pair, Pucey was a really good Chaser.

When they took off, Harry saw just how good he was and thanked Merlin that he was on his team. From the get-go, Harry’s team was leading. Adrian Pucey shot across the court, passing to his teammates while the other Chasers struggled to catch up. Harry almost felt sorry for the other Keeper, but then he saw a glint of gold and rocketed skywards.

He was well aware of the fact that the other Seeker, who he had found out was called Terence Higgs, was following close behind.

The Snitch seemed to have a mind of its own. It would shoot left before plummeting towards the ground, then it would hover midair until Harry was just about to grab it before it swerved to the right and shot back up again.

He was hard-pressed to keep up with it – let alone  _ catch  _ it.

In the meantime, the opposing team had started to catch up pointwise. After an hour, everyone flew to the ground for a quick break.

Through his red cheeks, Adrian huffed out, “Potter, catch that bloody Snitch already. You’re doing great, but I just want the rest of my Sunday back.” He clapped Harry on the back and got back on his broom.

Harry followed suit, determination solidifying.

–

Slytherins descended upon the pitch as Harry landed with the Snitch in his hands.

Pansy hugged Harry and Draco assured him that he did well. Even Blaise offered a few compliments.

Marcus cleared his throat. The pitch fell silent.

“Right. Joining me and Adrian as Chaser is Graham Montague. Cassius, you’re reserve. Beaters are Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick. Our Keeper is Miles Bletchley and our Seeker…”

Harry held his breath and crossed his fingers.

“…is Harry Potter. Higgs, you’re reserve. Everyone else, you can head up back to the castle. We saw some good players this year, but there are so few spaces.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was distantly aware of his friends celebrating, holding him while they jumped up and down in joy.

He was given the training schedule –  _ four times a week –  _ but it was only until he was back inside the castle for lunch that he truly comprehended it.

Ron ran up to him as soon as he spotted him. “Is it true?” he panted out. “Did you really make the Quidditch team?”

“Of course he did,” Draco retorted. “He’s got Quidditch blood running through his veins!”

“What do you mean by that?” Harry asked, turning to him. Ron also looked rather curious.

“James Potter – your father – he was a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. Snape’s mentioned it a few times, though it was mostly him complaining.” Draco shrugged. “I’m sure he was great though.”

The rest of lunch was spent discussing Harry’s ridiculous training schedule. Pansy had heard from what she called her  _ associates  _ that Wood and Flint were always trying to one-up each other.

“Look on the bright side,” she had said, “you probably won’t have to go to any more flying lessons! You’re brilliant, Potter. I don’t know what you were so worried about.”

“Yeah, Pansy wouldn’t shut up about how great you are the entire time we were watching the game,” Blaise added, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. Harry shot a questioning look at Pansy, but she had just struck up a conversation with Tracy and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

–

Despite still getting out of History of Magic early, Thursday afternoons were a tad depressing. There wasn’t much to do at this time, as everyone was still in class. Occasionally, he’d find Fred and George skipping class, and they’d show him secret passageways in exchange for Harry not telling anyone about what they were doing.

Harry wouldn’t have done that anyway, and he was pretty sure they knew that, but their company was too much fun to give up.

After a few weeks of this, he started to talk to Hermione as well. She had quit the lessons, saying that it wouldn’t help her in her studies, but Harry got the feeling she just wasn’t good at it.

He was surprised when he found himself looking forward to hanging out with Hermione. She wasn’t as bad as Ron made her out to be. Sure, she corrected him more often than he would’ve liked, but she also helped him with his transfiguration. Soon enough, Harry’s matches were turning into needles on his first attempts.

One Thursday morning, he was thinking so much about what he would get up to that afternoon that he didn’t even realise it was Halloween until he arrived at dinner that night. Hermione was missing that afternoon for some reason, and she still was nowhere to be found at the feast. He asked Ron about it, but he only muttered something about her running off to the toilet and didn’t seem all too happy to talk about it.

Harry forgot all about it when the food appeared in front of them. The smells filled his nose and his mouth watered as he stared at the golden chicken breast in front of him.

Over the past two months, his appetite had improved drastically, especially with the added Quidditch practices.

However, he didn’t get to eat more than a bite before Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall and gasped out, “Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed this. Then all hell broke loose. Panicked yells rang out across the hall and everyone stood up to find their friends.

Over the noise, they were ordered back to their dormitories and the Prefects herded their respective houses into a group.

“We  _ are  _ in the dungeons!” Draco hissed to Harry.

Harry wasn’t listening though. He was too busy worrying about Hermione. She wouldn’t know about the troll and she could very well be hurt.

This worry is what caused Harry to wait until Gemma looked the opposite way before he grabbed Draco’s arm and tugged him in the opposite direction, blending in with the Gryffindor crowd. Pansy and Blaise most likely saw, but they didn’t say anything. Harry had never been more thankful that he was in Slytherin.

It was hectic enough that they went undetected.

“Harry? Malfoy?” Ron called, shoving his way over to them. Harry shushed him. “Bloody hell, what are you two doing?”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Weasel. I have no clue,” Draco admitted. “I think Harry’s lost it.”

“Bugger off, Draco,” Harry replied. “Ron, where did you say you last saw Hermione?”

“Some of the Gryffindor girls were saying she went off to the bathroom after Charms. No one’s seen her since.” Ron’s face was flushed, but Harry decided not to question it.

“Right, come on, Ron.” That was all the warning the other two got before Harry tugged them towards the Hufflepuff group. They had piles of food in their arms as they were herded back to their dormitories. One of them seemed to be levitating half the table with them.

“Told you Luciana was crazy,” Ron muttered, gesturing to her, but Harry ignored him as he pulled them towards a different corridor.

This one was almost completely deserted. Harry saw Snape’s cloak swish around the corner at the opposite end of the hallway just as the trio arrived outside of the girl’s bathroom.

They didn’t get a chance to ponder why he was here instead of the dungeons as a shriek sounded from within the bathroom.

Harry swung open the door, wand out, and came face-to-face with a twelve-foot troll. Harry almost gagged at the stench. It was so powerful he felt his eyes water but he didn’t let this hinder him.

Hermione was pressed up against the wall as the troll approached, readying its club.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled. Her terrified eyes met his as the troll turned around. It began to approach its three new victims.

“Reducio!” Draco shouted, pointing his wand at the troll’s club.

It promptly shrunk to the size of a bottle. The troll paused to frown at it before it tossed its club aside and continued lumbering over to them. When the club touched the floor, it reverted back to its normal size.

“Maybe try it on the troll next time,” Harry suggested sarcastically as he pressed his back against the wall.

“You’re the one who got us into this mess, Potter!” Draco snarled. He gripped Harry’s arm as the troll got closer.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut just as Ron pulled out his wand.

“Wingardium leviosa!” he called, voice shaking. Harry opened his eyes to see Ron levitating the club above the troll’s head.

“Any second now, mate,” Harry prompted nervously. He could almost identify the mysterious grey substance on the troll’s face and he’d really rather not be near  _ that  _ at all.

The club then fell through the air, hitting the troll across the back of his head and knocking it forward. The creature teetered for a few tense seconds before it began to topple forwards.

“Move, move, move!” Draco screamed, pushing Harry and Ron out of its trajectory. Behind them, a loud thud resonated throughout the lavatory, the tiles beneath them shaking.

“Bloody hell,” Ron spoke after a moment, breaking the stunned silence between the four of them.

“You can say that again,” Harry agreed. Draco looked speechless.

“Thank you,” Hermione squeaked out, just as several teachers ran into the room.

Snape went over to examine the troll while Professor McGonagall checked over the students. Quirrell didn’t do anything useful aside from realising he was out of his depth and sitting down.

Once she was assured that no physical harm had come to them, McGonagall hardened her stare. Hermione quickly covered for them, spinning a story of foolish Gryffindor-ness and the other three coming to her rescue. When she had finished, McGonagall gave her a disapproving look that made Hermione deflate.

Harry piped up, “Well, it wasn’t all her fault, Professor. I saw the troll enter and instead of letting one of the others alert the teachers, I dragged them in. I wasn’t thinking, so if you’re going to punish her, then you should punish me too.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Harry took a page out of Pansy’s book and elbowed him.

The witch pursed her lips. “Mr Potter and Miss Granger, five points will be taken from both your houses for this. However,” her lips twitched into what Harry could’ve sworn was a smile, “I can’t say I’m unimpressed. As first-years you’ve accomplished something not many witches and wizards can do, so I am awarding each of you five points.”

To top it off, Snape looked like he had sucked on a lemon when he heard what McGonagall had to say. Harry left the chamber beaming so wide he was surprised Snape didn’t take points off him for smiling or something equally stupid.

“You’re lucky we didn’t die, Harry,” Draco told him. “If we did, I would’ve had to hex you into oblivion. Thank Merlin for Weasley.”

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything if Hermione hadn’t corrected me in Charms,” Ron admitted, a bashful hand on his neck. He turned to her. “Sorry, by the way, for what happened today.”

Hermione smiled. “It’s quite alright. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you three showing up, so I suppose it all worked out in the end.”

By the time they reached the staircases that would split them up, the four of them had formed a friendship. They didn’t need to see the future to know that it would last them for years.

–

From that point on, they were practically inseparable.

The morning after, Harry and Draco had recounted the whole ordeal to their peers, exaggerating as much as they could. Pansy had declared that she’d have to assess Hermione herself. It seemed she had passed whatever Pansy’s test was because it wasn’t uncommon to find the two girls comparing notes with Tracy or Pansy teaching Hermione a few advanced spells.

It was a good thing too – with his first Quidditch match quickly approaching, Harry wasn’t able to hang out with Hermione as much on Thursday afternoons, but Pansy had quickly stepped up to the plate.

Flint’s training was ruthless – often Harry would just finish class before he’d say a few quick goodbyes then have to rush out to make it to the Quidditch field. Anyone who was even a minute late was sent on a lap – something all the Slytherin players feared.

At least the extra practice made the days fly by. Before Harry knew it, it was halfway through November and he was walking onto the field with the entire school filling the stands.

The noise was an indistinct roar as the players mounted their brooms, waiting for Hooch’s whistle. Harry made the mistake of making eye contact with Fred and George, who hit their bats against their palms while glaring. He was sure the twins meant it as a fun pre-game joke, but that didn’t stop him from gulping.

When the shrill whistle pierced his ears, Harry took off.

Lee Jordan – a third-year Gryffindor boy – was commentating the match. Harry paused once he was a decent height in the air to listen to his colourful play-by-play. Occasionally Lee had a few choice words to say about Slytherins, but regardless, Harry found him funny.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor Chasers were fairly evenly matched. Harry flew a few lazy circles on the outskirts of the pitch, scanning the area for a hint of gold.

The sun was hidden by heavy grey clouds, darkening the world by a couple of shades. Harry was thankful for the gloves that Draco had given him because the wind bit at his cheeks and stung his eyes. He’d have to get the goggles that some of the other Slytherin players had.

His broom jerked underneath his hands. Harry frowned and attempted to keep flying, before he shot backwards through the sky, then jolted up and down. The wind was knocked out of him as his broom bucked around, like a mechanical bull trying to knock him off its back. Harry tightened his grip just as his Nimbus rotated, leaving Harry to hang about a hundred feet above the ground.

Looking down made his palms sweat. He knew people were shouting things at him, but he couldn’t focus as him broom jerked yet again and one of his hands slipped off.

If his heart wasn’t thumping in his ears, he might have heard the collective gasp from the stands below as they awaited the Nimbus’ next move.

It never came.

Harry braced himself before reaching up with his free hand to grip onto the broom. He took a deep breath, before he swung himself back and forth, building up enough momentum to hook a leg over. Once he managed that, the rest was fairly simple. In a matter of seconds, he had gone from almost plummeting to his death to sitting atop his broomstick.

He spent a minute trying to get his breathing back to normal. Flint flew close enough to ask if he wanted to switch out, but Harry responded with a resolute shake of his head.

It was then that Harry spotted the Snitch fluttering behind the curious players who had gathered, and as soon as the game resumed, he sped off. The Gryffindor Seeker took pursuit, though his broom was no match for Harry’s Nimbus 2000. He’d have to thank Blaise later – but that wasn’t important now, because he was so, so  _ close- _

His hand closed around the cool metal of the Snitch, and the fluttering wings stilled underneath his fingers. When Harry landed on the grass below, he gazed open-mouthed at the gold lying still in the shiny black of his glove. He had done it. He had really done it!

The realisation allowed him to tune back into the real world, and around him, he could hear cheers as his teammates pat him on the back. Even Terence Higgs shook his hand, saying he had done Slytherin proud.

Harry beamed all the way to the change rooms, and he was still smiling as Draco tackle-hugged him the moment he left.

He was surprised but hugged back nonetheless. When Draco finally released him, Harry saw that Ron and Hermione were standing off to the side, frowning.

“Hey,” Harry greeted, just as the two converged on him. “Not that I don’t like this, but why is everyone hugging me?”

“Because you almost died!” Hermione’s shrill voice reminded him, arms tightening around him.

With the high of winning, Harry had forgotten about that, but now it came back to him all at once. In the moment, he hadn’t felt the sweaty palms and the absolute terror of his hand coming loose. He hadn’t registered that he was one wrong move away from becoming another one of the stories people like the Weasley twins joked about to scare people, nor that the whole school might’ve been exposed to a mangle of limbs if he had fallen.

The smile slipped from his face. At some point, Hagrid had come up to them and had led Harry into his hut, but he didn’t remember that part.

When Hagrid saw Harry blinking as he looked around the hut, he handed the shaking boy a cup of tea. The others were engaged in a heated conversation.

“It was Snape – he was muttering and staring at Harry, as ‘Mione said!” Ron threw his hands up in exasperation. “Why can’t you see that it was him?!”

“Because Snape wouldn’t do that!” Draco snapped. “He looks after Slytherins, not kill them!”

“Oh yeah?” Ron growled. “Then please tell me how humiliating Harry is looking after him!”

“Ron, Draco, would you stop it?” Hermione huffed. “You’re upsetting Harry!”

Three pairs of eyes turned to him. Harry smiled weakly. “So anyone want to fill me in?”

Everyone began to speak at once.

“We thought you lost control of your broom –“

“I took Ron’s binoculars and saw Snape –“

“He wasn’t cursing Harry’s broom –“

“Shut up, Malfoy. Hermione and I snuck over to the teachers’ stand –“

“I saw Snape’s cloak and did the only thing I could think of that would break his concentration –“

“She set him on fire!”

“Only his  _ robe,  _ Ronald –“

“It was still amazing!”

“Han’ on, han’ on,” Hagrid interrupted. “You suspect  _ Snape  _ tried ter kill ‘arry?!” The Gryffindors nodded. “No way, I don’ believe it! Snape is one o’ the most trustworthy teachers ‘ogwarts has ter offer!”

“See?” Draco exclaimed. “I told you Snape wouldn’t do something like that. He was probably trying to help! He’s wanted to be a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for ages – it makes sense that he’d know counter-curses or something!”

“You’re grasping at straws, mate,” Ron shrugged.

“Don’t call me that, Weasel,” Draco muttered.

Hermione shifted to face him. “Draco, don’t take this the wrong way but I wouldn’t be so sure about Snape. There are rumours, you know. And you can’t deny that Snape treats Harry worse than any other student! Hagrid, if you saw how Snape acts in Potions, you’d understand our side!”

“Nonsense, Hermione! Dumbledore ‘imself asked Snape to help protect the –“ Hagrid snapped his mouth shut.

The students immediately jumped on that, trying to get Hagrid to tell them what he was going to say. Even Draco got involved in the interrogation, but the only other thing they were able to get out of Hagrid was that whatever the  _ thing  _ was, it had something to do with Nicolas Flamel.

At least that explained why Hagrid was so weird the last time Pansy and Draco mentioned him.

When they were eventually turned out of Hagrid’s hut, they caught Hermione up on the rest of the story and made plans to research further before retiring to their separate dormitories. Harry and Draco were too exhausted to join in on the Quidditch match celebrations.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter is one I'm really excited for (spoiler: Christmas) HOWEVER
> 
> Because I'm doing NANOWRIMO this year (50k in one month), I won't be posting for the rest of the month. Sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates weekly. Can also be found on my Tumblr (andystanberg) and Wattpad (notafeeling). The Golden Trio are still friends, they just haven't met yet.


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